Ratchet & Clank Future II: In Search Of Clank
by Stephen Stryker
Summary: This story picks up where Ratchet & Clank Future Tools of Destruction ends, and chronicles Ratchet's desperate quest to reunite himself with his closest friend, kidnapped by strange alien androids, along with challenges he'd never dreamed of.
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to my Ratchet & Clank fanfic. I hadn't intended for this to be my first submission at , but it's sure a good one to choose for that. First of all, to deal with the legal stuff.

Ratchet & Clank, all associated characters, galaxies, planets, weapons, gizmos and what not, © 2001 – 2008 Sony Computer Entertainment, used without permission, nor the approval of Insomniac Games, Inc. But hopefully with their tacit approval. All other characters and content, © 2008 Stephen Stryker, and may not be used without express permission.

Now for a warning. This fiction is based on Ratchet & Clank Future Tools of Destruction, and includes details from previous games in the series. As such, this should be considered

ONE LONG STRING OF SPOILERS.

So if you don't want any surprises ruined, I suggest you play those games first. In fact, I highly recommend you buy a copy of R&C Future and a Playstation 3 if you haven't already. Not only will the fic make more sense, but Future is an excellent game, and the PS3 a superb game system and media player.

My shameless plug done, I leave you to enjoy the fic. I will leave notes at the end of the chapter so you aren't completely left dangling. Please leave comments.

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**Ratchet & Clank Future II: In Search Of Clank**

**Chapter 1: NEXUS**

It began with a tunnel of light, impossibly long, and then...

His mind awoke suddenly. 'I am... someplace, now, but... _where?_'

He found himself lying on a shining circular platform, and as he got to his metal feet, he saw that this was a _very_ strange world he was on, as all around him stretched the alien architecture of a shining city. The very substance of it gleamed from within. And then he blinked in astonishment at what it consisted of.

Raritanium... entire buildings made of _Raritanium?_ And diamond, and crystallized metals... elements of power and beauty. Not just a city like a jewel, but a huge circuit, humming with power. His sensors could find no end to it... _was the entire planet made of this?_ An organic being would have found it breathtaking, but Clank was no less impressed. Even the sky above was unique, rippling with wavering lines, indicating the convergence of numerous boundaries of some kind. He touched his cheek in amazement, murmuring, "Unbelievable..."

And everywhere, on every remotely level surface of this city, were the dormant purple bodies of the Zoni, as far as he could see. While he marveled at this sight, he became aware of a whispering of voices in his mind.

'Awaken us, sire.'

He was hesitant to do so, as the Zoni had kidnapped him, after all. However, he would need their help to return as he had no idea where he was, or why they had taken him, except it had something to do with learning his destiny. Finally, he touched his hands to the dome of his head and transmitted the activation signal.

It was amazing to watch the circle formed by the awakening little robots racing away from him at virtually light speed as they responded to his call. And then he fell over at the impact of their spoken response as an entire world of it rushed back into the center. "ZONI."

As he regained his composure, he found a small group of the beings approaching, informing him, "We will speak for the others. We know you have questions."

"Why, thank you," he replied, tapping his chin thoughtfully, for he did indeed have a multitude of them. "To begin, I must know why I was taken from my world, and my friends." To him, the others he knew paled in comparison to Ratchet, but he wanted to be polite, and also, just in case, not draw special significance to the Lombax.

They replied in their combined voices, "You are needed here, sire. Your purpose can only be served here."

Clank would have loved to be able to frown just then. "Please explain."

"This world is centrally located, so that it borders on every universe in existence. We are the Zoni. We were created in the distant youth of the universes to serve the Guardian. The Guardian is our master."

Clank gaped at them in astonishment. Truly, this was a unique world... _centered in the midst of all realities?_ Then there was the mystery of this Guardian. That was a rather ambitious title, and he wanted to know more about it. "Tell me about the nature of your Guardian. What is his purpose? Does he require my services for some reason?"

"The purpose of the Guardian is to secure the integrity of the many universes, and to shepherd the living beings in them."

Clank blinked in surprise. "Shepherd? What is the nature of this shepherding?"

They explained in their buzzing monotone, "While the universes are governed by order and principle, they are also disrupted by forces of chaos and misfortune. Likewise, living things are subject to irrational impulses, raw emotions and selfish ambitions. This unreasonable nature not only makes living difficult, but it causes conflicts, violence, death and war. These two disruptive principles, chaos and unreason, if left unchecked, would result in a universe riddled with disaster. At the direction of the Guardian, we Zoni intervene at his instruction to cause significant events to transpire in ways which are more in harmony with peace and logic. Because the Guardian is not omnipotent, we Zoni serve to carry out his diverse will. And because we Zoni only have a certain number and power, the events chosen for intervention must be decided with great care and wisdom."

Clank's eyes flashed in amazement... was this the nature of the many interventions which gave rise to the belief in a divine Providence? The memory of the Zoni guiding him to do things such as rescue Talwyn from her imprisonment was particularly compelling. "That is very noble! I must say that the ones who originally founded this system carried out these intentions amazingly well. However, I must know more about the Guardian and the history of your system, as well as it's ultimate goals." And, hopefully an answer as to why he had been taken away, which... he was begining to wonder about.

They replied in a way that was much a dissertation to him as an answer to his questions. "The lifespan of the Guardian is not endless. The strain of sifting through the numerous events happening in every universe at all times eventually causes the Guardian to fail. At this point, the essential collective data defining his being is retrieved and merged with those of the Guardians which preceded him. This is referred to as the Guardian Archetype. The Guardian Archetype actively serves as the guide to the new Guardian when he is selected to assume the duties of universal shepherd."

Clank was beginning to see where this discussion was headed, as the regal title of 'sire' had been nagging him. "I see... and... I have been chosen as the new Guardian, I take it?"

There was a kind of bow from them, and an emphatic, "_Yes_."

Clank had to giggle at that, telling them, "Well... that is very flattering. But... why me? I see nothing all that special about me."

The reverence and awe in their reply was obvious. "It has been determined that you are unique among robots of this age, sire. You have a particularly strong sense of duty, and a serving, giving nature which it is assumed would be very useful factors in your duties as Guardian. And there are others which are not revealed to us."

He shook his head at that with a smile. "Oh, my... you are giving me a big head, and I am sure if... my friend was here, he would have something to say on the matter." He smiled fondly at the many remarks he was sure Ratchet would make about all this. But he knew there was still much to learn before he somehow convinced the Zoni they had the wrong robot for the job, resuming his questions. "But, if the Guardian Archetype is still functional and aware, why not simply provide a suitable vessel which would enable it to carry on instead? Surely the Guardian Archetype itself would be the perfect Guardian."

They replied in their unison monotone, "While the Guardian Archetype is fully active and functional, it does require the Guardian as a host, and they reach a consensus on all matters of consequence. In addition, the Guardian Archetype desires the unique thinking and viewpoints of new Guardians to insure that their combined intellect and reasoning does not grow stagnant."

Clank nodded, his eyes dimming slightly. "I... see."

"Ultimately, it is the intent of the Guardian Archetype to cause the ever growing interventions in the lives of all beings to result in a universal age of logic, in which irrational impulses, raw emotions and selfish individual ambitions no longer exist."

This sounded uncomfortably like the plans of Dr. Nefarious, and Clank took a step backward in reaction, murmuring, "Oh, my..."

The Zoni asked him, "Why do you give that response?"

Clank was determined to make them understand, drawing himself up as tall as he could manage. "While the intentions of your creators were noble, and this all sounded at first like some kind of providence, the ultimate goal is nothing less than a dictatorship. This is wrong. You must understand me."

They edged closer. "Why do you say that? Are you not a robot? Do you not see how the foibles of organic beings, dominated by individualism, selfishness, flawed emotions and illogic result in wasted potential and unnecessary trouble in the universes?"

Clank shook his head. "I know only too well, but this is _not _the solution. Not only would living things resist this subjugation of their free will with all their might, but there is a strange kind of nobility in living out their troubled lives. They grow as beings by overcoming their flaws and inadequacies, and learning from their errors. And their lives are rich _because _of their emotions, not in spite of them. Music, art, literature, charity, heroism, philosophy, love, even religion... all of these and more are expressions of the sentient, _passionate _spirit manifesting something glorious. And they have nothing whatsoever to do with sterile logic. The aims of the Guardians may have originated with pure intentions, but they will ultimately result in a tyranny which will crush the very life from the universe... from _all_ universes_._"

The Zoni gazed at him silently for an uncomfortably long time. "Do you reject your chosen destiny?"

Clank regarded them sternly. "It is only a chosen destiny if _I _choose to fulfill it, and I will have no part of this. In fact, I will resist it with every aspect of my being."

Despite not having a throat, Clank swallowed as the Zoni began to close in on him almost menacingly. "You do not have a choice, sire. The needs of the many always outweigh the desires of the one. The universes must have a Guardian."

He groaned as he unconsciously assumed his Agent Clank stance, "Do even robots have to resort to worn out cliches like that?" And then when he realized with an inner blush how silly he must look, he decided to make the best of it and cut the air with a few snappy hand chops.

The Zoni hesitated, and every little robot on the planet intoned in admiration, "Ooooh... he _is_ Agent Clank!" One of them drifted forward with a scribe pad extending from it's chest. "May we have your autograph, sire?"

He was taken aback by this, but he nodded with a smile. "Well, of course. Anything for a... collective fan." He extended a stylus from his finger, marking the bar code of his autograph on the electronic pad with a chuckle, and adding below it a sketch of him smiling. As the Zoni rejoined the circle, Clank heaved a sigh of relief, grateful that the situation had evidently been defused, unaware that they were again closing around him. "Well then, now that _that _is over with, I want you to return me to my - _AAGH!_"

He was stunned when he found that the Zoni had snared him in a ring of energy and lifted him into the air, proclaiming with a twisted cheerfulness, "This is the true reason you were chosen after all! Agent Clank is the perfect candidate for the new Guardian!"

He groaned woefully, "I cannot believe this... now I am captured by _interdimensional fiends because of a blasted holovid role?!_ Where are you taking me!"

They replied with that warped joy, "To the receptacle which will become your new form. With it, you will realize your true purpose as the Guardian of all realities."

He looked over his shoulder to see he was flying rapidly to a huge structure which was evidently going to absorb him in some fashion. They didn't slow very much, and he slammed into a receptacle with his body shape, a tremendous "YAY!" sounding from the Zoni. As he recovered, he could see the face of the structure beginning to shift, rippling with polygonal facets as the crystal began to reconfigure, the strange metal merging with his own. Struggle as he might, he was held fast. But worse, he felt some very powerful data currents beginning to flood his circuits, using brute power to overcome some of his defenses and invade his architecture like a virus. The Zoni hovered almost tauntingly in front of him, saying as his consciousness was ravaged by this electronic invasion, "You will see the error of your reasoning when you join with all the Guardians which existed before you, and the sum of their logic and experience becomes one with you. You will understand, and you shall willingly carry out the purpose of the Guardian Archetype."

Clank began to cry out, then to wail as if in agony, "Ratchet... _RATCHET!!_"

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Author's notes, so you don't feel completely lost:

**Clank:** Ratchet's ever-present sidekick is a small robot, a little smaller than a backpack, and equipped with numerous gadgets to help his friend overcome the obstacles on their adventures. Clank is exceedingly intelligent, and advises Ratchet on his options, sometimes whether it's wanted or not. While they do bicker on occasion, they are dear friends and would do anything to protect the other. **Agent Clank** is a James Bond-like starring role Clank played in a "holovid" series, an occasional point of jealousy with Ratchet.

Dr. Nefarious: a robotic villain Ratchet and Clank faced in Up Your Arsenal, a raving megalomaniac who despised organic life, and sought to robotize every living thing possible in the universe.

**Raritanium:** A rare substance, possibly an ultra-heavy element, which is used to upgrade weapons and other devices in the Ratchet & Clank universe.

**Talwyn:** a feisty young woman who will be detailed in the following chapter.

**Zoni:** small alien robots – I am assuming they're robots – which serve some sort of master in Tools of Destruction, and refer to Clank throughout ToD as "Sire." They cannot be detected unless they choose to reveal themselves, which they did to Clank, causing Ratchet a few headaches. While initially they seem benevolent and kindly, helping our heroes out in the course of their adventures, they reveal a possibly sinister side when they make off with Clank.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Hope restored – from an unlikely source**

He stood over the Lombax, gazing at him sadly, passed out on the grass from sheer exhaustion, and after what he'd gone through that day, it was understandable. He'd refused to go to bed, his green eyes fixed on the high metal roof of the main terrarium where his friend had vanished in a tremendous flash, kidnapped by strange alien robots, aching to see some sign of his return in a similar way, drifting down to him with a metallic smile of sorts on his face, telling his friend that it was all right.

But it didn't happen. Clank was gone. Even though he had friends around him there at the station, his shoulders sagged under a crushing loneliness, and when he wasn't watching that stark metal dome, he couldn't keep his head lifted, his ears drooping. No one could console him, and for the first time in his life, the man fretted over someone other than himself. Even though his relationship with Ratchet wasn't on the best of terms, he respected him greatly, even liked him, and he wanted to do something for the Lombax. But of course there was only one thing that would restore Ratchet to life, and if he couldn't do it, what chance did an almost has-been superhero have?

Qwark was going to put him to bed for lack of anything else he could do, but when he reached down to gather him up, Ratchet stirred and mumbled something like, "Forget it, Qwark... you're... no Clank..." Feeling self conscious and embarrassed, he scampered behind a bush, but Ratchet curled up and began snoring softly.

Heaving an unhappy sigh, Qwark murmured, "Yeah, I... guess I'm kind of like the armpit hair of the human race to you, aren't I?" But he could do a _little _something, and gently draped a pretty blanket over the slumbering Lombax, and after watching him regretfully for a while more, turned and wandered back to his own chamber.

* * *

The last thing he remembered was Tachyon mocking him from within a hole in the air, a dark blue-blackness as if some infinite void, ringed with energy. There was another sound behind him, the high-pitched buzzing voice of several little bots crying, "ZONI." And as he spun around, he witnessed the terrible sight of Clank writhing in a ring of energy, surrounded by those awful, little purple bots as they rose into the air, calling desperately, "Ratchet! Help!"

His stomach knotted in alarm as he gaped at the scene, but he was determined to save his friend, launching himself into the air as high as he could at them, crying, "Let him _go!_". But before he could reach the Zoni, they vanished in a blinding flare, and the next thing Ratchet knew, he was landing hard on the ground. He struggled to recover, crying, "No... come back!"

Tachyon practically shrieked with mocking laughter at the sight. "Face it, Lombax! You will always be alone. Invariably and without exception, all of your _friends_ will either leave you or die!"

Ratchet was at wit's end, swinging his OmniWrench at the Cragmite with all his strength, yelling, "_Shut up!_" But even that failed, as the wrench flew completely through the image, and he whirled around and fell once more. "Damn it... you're not even _here?_"

"Oh, I am here, all right," the Cragmite said with a wicked grin. "But you don't understand, do you? That's because you have no clue as to the true nature of the Dimensionator! However..." He told the Lombax in a childish, sing-song voice, "_I know a secret_."

He didn't trust the Cragmite to be straightforward with anything, especially dealing with the Dimensionator, but he growled, "Don't toy with me! Tell me, or I'll--!"

Tachyon giggled haughtily. "Oooh, or you'll _what?_ Throw another object through this phantasmic body? While that would amuse me greatly, I thought perhaps I could reveal something to you, since you obviously aren't intelligent enough to figure it out on your own!"

Ratchet snarled, "Fine! Tell me so you'll shut up!"

The Cragmite gave him another infuriating grin. "You see? You're nothing but a hotheaded little brat ruled by your emotions. How can you hope to understand the mystery of the Dimensionator, or it's purpose? Or the consequences, if used improperly?"

Ratchet's voice was thick with bile. "What are you talking about! It's just a device, a _Lombax_ device! What could you know about using it _properly_ anyway!"

Tachyon leered at him in a way that was downright disturbing. "Oh, _I know_, Lombax. I have experienced it's wrath first hand. In fact..." He leaned forward and a ghastly light shone from below his face as he cried out, "The Dimensionator _killed me!_" Ratchet recoiled in horror as he could see with frightening clarity the decaying skin and spots of exposed bone. The Cragmite drew back slowly with unnerving calm, adding quietly, "In a manner of speaking."

When Ratchet collected himself, he shot back, "Okay... you abused the power of the Lombax race, tried to destroy them, and now you're suffering for it. Serves you right." Still, he felt a twinge of sympathy for the being in that hideous state, and he had to wonder, 'How... how is he still alive!'

Tachyon gave an irritating chuckle. "Oh, I suppose you think I'm just bitter, and perhaps that's all it is, an excuse to plant seeds of doubt in your mind. Perhaps." As Ratchet made to shoot off a smart remark, the Cragmite continued leadingly, "But there is more. In fact, I can do something for you."

He growled spitefully, "I don't need any favors from you!"

Tachyon grinned with twisted glee. "You might want this one, Lombax. For you see, there are some very interesting consequences to this condition. For one, I can view events virtually _anywhere_ I wish. And, bring someone _with_ me. In fact, I can show you exactly what happened to your beloved robot friend."

Ratchet glared at the malicious bug distrustingly. What he said couldn't _possibly _be true... could it? "What kind of trick are you trying to pull here!"

"No trick, my boy. I will reveal to you the home world of the Zoni, and what they did with your precious Clank. And I know you're asking why I would do this. It's written all over your face. It's simply because I don't think you can do a _thing_ about it. It will be most entertaining to watch you _try_, though."

Ratchet watched suspiciously as the royal scepter was extended through the barrier, little sparks arcing along the metal of it, growling as he reached for it, "If this is some scheme of yours, so help me, you'll regret it."

Tachyon was leering at him excitedly as he told the Lombax, "Well... we will have to see after you watch... THIS!"

What happened was so strange, he couldn't fathom it.

The energies snapping along the scepter ran all through Ratchet's body, and he felt... it was hard to describe, like... his body had become liquid, flowing down a stream leading through unimaginably deep gulfs, larger than any universe could hope to contain. He didn't know what was happening to him, how to handle the experience and tried to cry out, but his voice was so small, this gulf wouldn't even notice it existed. 'Was this Death... _had Tachyon killed me?!_' But no, there was something approaching, a light, and as he watched, it opened up into a whole world...

And suddenly he was there.

But he wasn't prepared for the explosive scene he dropped into, or the emotional reaction it caused. He was surrounded by his people, the Lombaxes, in a city much like the capital of Fastoon, but they were running away in stark terror from some disaster behind them. In fact, he was being pushed back by the desperate stampede. He tried frantically to get someone's attention, but they were too overcome with fear to waste a second on him, although one male grabbed him and cried, "Get out of the way, you fool!"

Ratchet shouted anxiously, "_What's going on!_" But they threatened to carry him off with them, ignoring his pleas. He spotted a Swingshot orb and latched onto it, the only way to escape the swarm of Lombaxes as they fled for their lives. "I don't get it... we never run from trouble. Why are they so scared!"

As he swung forward, he spotted a hulk of metal squatting in the distance, and he growled, "Tachyon! I should have known it was a trick... he came back somehow!" He landed in front of the mechanized throne, readying his OmniWrench for a strike. "All right you monster! Now I'm going to...!" But his voice faltered as he saw the body of the bug-like alien collapsed in the seat. Prodding it with his wrench, he gasped, "Tachyon's... _dead?_ But then... what are they running from!"

When he saw it, he gaped in confusion. It was Clank. He was in his giant form, surrounded by those blasted Zoni as he stomped relentlessly forward, a beam coming from his chest which swept over the fleeing Lombaxes. And when he saw why, his heart nearly stopped, his mind reeling in horror.

He was robotizing everyone. But it was even worse than that... no one survived! Every person the beam touched turned to metal, but fell over lifelessly. _It was the most horrible genocide..._

And all the while, the dreadful buzzing voice of the Zoni intoned, "No more war, no more disease, no more famine, no more strife, no more misfortune, no more illogic, no more free will... only the purity of order. All hail the absolute rule of Guardian Clank!"

He ran forward, crying at the top of his lungs, "Clank! _Clank! _Stop it! You're killing _everyone!_" He stood there, frozen in place as he wracked his brain for a solution, the deadly beam sweeping inexorably towards him. He waved his arms wildly, his wrench held high, desperately trying to get his attention. "Clank! Why don't you see me?! _Clank!!_" He thought briefly as he trembled in fear, 'He won't kill me... he can't kill me! No one was closer than we were... he has to stop!'

And then the beam touched him, and his mind froze in mortal terror. 'Oh, my God... I can feel my body dying, _cell by cell..._' And if that wasn't horrible enough, he could see tears running down the face of his friend, real tears, as Clank moaned in agony, "Ohh... Ratchet... please, forgive me..."

He struggled in the midst of his nightmare. It was so hard to scream, to do anything, the weight on his remaining living flesh making every muscle feel like lead, but he had to. At this intolerable situation, he had to scream. 'Clank! ..._Clank!!_'

"CLANK!!"

He sat bolt upright, trembling from the raw emotions overwhelming him, the cry of his friend's name ringing in the chamber, blinking back tears. He was in the terrarium back at Apogee Space Station... it had been a nightmare, a terrible nightmare. "Cla..." he began, looking beside him for the reassuring sight of his friend who was always there. But... no, he remembered. The Zoni had taken his friend, and he was alone.

With a growl burning in his throat, he threw the blanket off and jumped to his feet, crying at the top of his lungs, "_Why!_ Why did you take Clank from me! What reason was there! Damn you! Come back here! Give him back to me! _He's my friend!!_" But as much as he ached even to see them returning to attack him, there was no response. He fell to his knees, feeling that ache of crushing loneliness once more, holding his head in his hands and whimpering, "He's my only real friend..."

There was the sound of a sympathetic moan behind him, and his heart sank at the thought of the only person it could be. 'Oh, of all the times... of all the people... not _now_...'

The figure lurking behind the shrubbery saw the Lombax stiffen, and he realized the jig was up and he might as well come out. Drawing himself up and with a nonchalant swagger, Qwark tromped forward in his green and gold robe and pink bunny slippers, holding a cup of cocoa. Thinking maybe some humor was in order, he growled, "Arr, avast ye landlord! What's got yer timbers all ashiver--?"

It all seemed pathetic in that sorry moment, and Ratchet muttered, "Qwark, knock it off. You just... aren't cut out to be a pirate."

The hero blustered, "Oh, uhh, well... uhm... hey, I couldn't stand by while a cry of distress reached these noble spandex covered ears."

Ratchet eyed the hulking hero in disbelief at how he was dressed, murmuring with a faint smile, "Ya know, if you cut that sugar intake, maybe you could sleep better."

He drew the sloshing mug back self-consciously, muttering, "Uhh, well... for me anyway, a warm cup of cocoa is a great companion late at night when sleep is reluctant to join you in bed." Sometimes, the way the man put things was just wrong, and it showed in Ratchet's expression. Desperate to break the ice between them, he shoved the mug forward, saying, "Uh, here. I'll get anoth--"

"Thanks, but..." Ratchet told him, pushing it back. "I'm really not in a cocoa mood right now." He faced down at his feet, wishing with all his might that some shiny object would pop up to draw the annoying hero away, his ears drooping from the dark emotions he bore.

The corroded gears in Qwark's mind spun like mad as he scrambled for something, anything to cheer the Lombax. "Uh, well... uhmmm... Ratchet, I... that is... you see, we... I mean to say... I know... we haven't recently... or maybe we never did... but I..."

The stream of jibberish grated on Ratchet's nerves until he couldn't take it anymore, jumping up and exclaiming, "Qwark, this is not a good time to ramble!"

The hero flinched away as if Ratchet had swung his OmniWrench, fighting to put together even a few sensible words. "Well... hold on a minute, chum! This warm, fuzzy stuff doesn't come easy for me." He held his head in his hand for a moment as his thoughts tumbled into a semblance of order. "It's just that... I've never seen you like this before. You've never been defeated in all the days I've known you. You're actually... an inspiration to me. And... you can't tell anyone I said that."

Ratchet blinked in surprise at the admission, then noticed the blanket he'd been lying under - he hadn't brought one with him. 'Qwark is... being nice to me, in his clumsy, overbearing, smothering way. He's really trying to be helpful.' The thought touched his heart, and he began to smile faintly. And then something totally unexpected happened.

Qwark rambled on in his usual stream of semi-consciousness, saying, "You always find some way out, some kind of answer, for every situation you're in. You just.. somehow know where to go, what to do, to find that one thread of hope to unravel the loincloth of evil and expose it's shortcomings to the universe."

Ignoring the inevitable unsavory wording that marred Qwark's speeches, something clicked in Ratchet's mind, and it was ironic that it took a neener like Qwark to inspire it. Find the answers... he knew what to do, at least how to begin, saying with a nod, "Iris."

The hero stopped in his motivations with a blink. "Crisis? Hey, if you're in the midst of a crisis, just let me know and I'll..." His voice faltered as he noticed that the Lombax had vanished, and he looked around. "Ratchet?"

He was bolting off for one of the exits to the terrarium, calling over his shoulder, "Thanks, Qwark!" To himself he murmured, "Honestly, thanks. You really were a big help this time."

Qwark was practically giddy. "He knows what to do, _he knows what to do!_ But, of course he does, he _always _knows what to do." Prancing over to a wall comm, he flipped the switch, exclaiming, "Hey guys! Guess what? Rat-!"

He was cut off by a scolding Zephyr. "Dad blast it, you young rapscallion! I should whoop you good! You'll wake up Miss Talwyn!" This was followed by the sleepy sounding voice of the young girl. "Never mind... I got it. Qwark, _what is it?_"

"Oh, uhhm..." He watched the door close behind Ratchet, and then his usual nature kicked in, and he whispered, holding down mute, "Why should they share in the glory of a rousing good adventure? They aren't made of heroic stuff... they're just civilians!" Releasing the button, he scrambled for something to say. "Uh... never mind, I just... have to see my publicist! I'll be back in a jiff!"

As he bounded off for his own chamber, the speaker crackled with angry chatter, Cronk exclaiming, "What?! You woke her up for that?! Why, when I get my hands on you, I'll--!"

Talwyn cut him off. "Never mind... what was it he said first anyway?"

Zephyr replied sourly, "Oh, he said something about a rat!"

"What?!" Talwyn coughed. "There aren't any rats here... wait a minute... _Ratchet?_"

He always traveled light. He grabbed his wrench. He grabbed the Dimensionator. Rusty Pete perked up where he'd been idling against the wall. "Oy, Cap'n, what's the r-_RUSH!_" he blurted out as he was yanked up as well.

As his ship pulled away from the station and made it's way through the dense ring of asteroids, Talwyn messaged him. "Ratchet, what's the deal? Why did you leave without telling anyone?"

He felt embarrassed about that, but didn't want to insult Qwark by admitting he wanted to get away cleanly, leaving the overbearing green parasite behind. "Ohh... you know, everyone was asleep and I'm no good at goodbyes anyway. Besides, I know where to go for some answers and I don't want to waste a second."

"Wait, you know where to go...?" Then it dawned on her, and she asked, "The IRIS supercomputer?"

"Exactly. I can't think of a better source to learn about something as mysterious as the Zoni."

"Well... hold on and we'll join up with you."

Ratchet shook his head, explaining, "No, Kreeli Comet is swarming with pirates. There must be hundreds of them."

"Millions!" Rusty Pete added, then when Ratchet gave him a dim look, he sunk back in his seat. "Well, there's a lot of 'em anyhow."

Cronk stuck his head into view, drawling, "Ya young whippersnapper, that's why we need to go along. Ya can't do everything on your own."

"I'll be fine," he said before Talwyn could add her objection. "With Pete here to grease the gears, I'll be in and out in no time. They actually think I'm the new captain." He made the pretense of checking his instruments. "Anyway... I'm coming up on the jump point. I'll be sure and message you when I come back." He regarded the image of her face in the screen fondly for a moment, adding in a softer voice, "Listen, it was good times... being with you guys."

"Same here," she said with a smile. "Good luck, Ratchet... I know you'll bring him back."

"Thanks. And listen," he added quickly, "if Clank _ever_ shows up--"

She told him warmly, "I'll get a message to you as soon as possible, even if I have to fly him to you myself."

"Thanks, again. I _really_ appreciate it. Uhm..." he murmured, reaching slowly for the comm switch, but not wanting to. "Anyway... I really have to say goodbye. Uhm... Ratchet, out." As her image blinked off the display, his eyes lingered there, until he was interrupted by Rusty Pete's heavy pirate drawl.

"Err... you are the Cap'n... right?"

Not wanting to deal with the question, he declared with a sly grin, "Get ready. Initiating hyperdrive... now!"

Aphelion acknowledged in her metallic voice, "Hyperdrive engaged."

It was always a thrill to feel the ship gathering itself like a stallion making a mighty jump, as the drive coils built up a tremendous amount of energy, opening up the specific wormhole running to a distant galactic location. Then there was the lurch of the ship being drawn in to scream down the glowing tunnel at quantum speeds. It never got old.

Rusty Pete's eyes rolled like marbles, and he cackled, "Oooh-hoo-hoo-hoo! I loves hyperjumps! They tingle right in me pleasure center!"

Ratchet drew away uncomfortably, restrained by his flight belts, muttering, "Really..." Then he nearly bit his tongue as an all too familiar - and grating - voice rang out of the console's speakers.

"Hey Ratchet, it's Qwark! I just managed to lock onto your coordinates!"

He slapped his helmet, saying in exasperation, "How does he _do this?!_"

"What?"

"Oh, uhm," he began, trying to drive the disappointment from his voice. "Nice.. to have you along, Quark, uhm... just... be sure and follow right down the center. We wouldn't want you to end up straying down a side channel to some random quasar." He added under his breath, "Not that I wouldn't mind that for a decade or so..." He noticed Rusty Pete eying him curiously.

"What?"

"OH! Nothing! Uh... listen, we _really _should maintain radio silence. You know... in case some... wormhole... worm... latches onto your ship, drawn by radio signals..." He groaned to himself, "He's never going to believe that felgercarb--"

But to his amazement, the Captain audibly cringed. "Eww! Ugh... I mean... not that I would care or anything. But... the thought of some putrid protoplasmic parasite plastering itself all over you like that... eww... _Qwark out!_"

Ratchet chuckled in delight, "He... really bought it." He then noticed Pete still giving him that curious gaze. "What?"

"Well..." he began uncertainly, "it's just that... I thought he were a friend o' yours."

"No!" he blurted out. "I mean... well, _kind_ of. A little." He sighed, staring out the viewport, and hoping the first mate would drop it. "It's hard to explain."

Pete looked to Ratchet in perplexion, then away, then back again, then finally at the floor plates, murmuring, "It must be a squishy thing."

A smile did tug at Ratchet's lips as he thought of Qwark, of all people, feeling so kindly that he'd bring a blanket to warm him as he slept. Much too _cute_ a blanket, but still...

* * *

Author's notes:

**Aphelion:** Ratchet's fighter ship, salvaged from the Lombax homeworld of Fastoon. Her computer has a female personality and voice, and offers advice on occasion, being quite intelligent, as most robots and computers are in the Ratchet & Clank universe. She is fast, equipped with weapons and shielding, and can hyperjump to distant locations across intergalactic space.

**Apogee Space Station:** an outpost located in the treacherously cluttered Nundac Asteroid Ring, built by a famous explorer named **Max Apogee**, an alien with Indiana Jones-like allusions. Heavily defended, it was supposedly the location of "The Lombax Secret" Ratchet and Clank had been searching for in Tools of Destruction, and at one time probably was. The station is a huge terrarium, as well as home to **Talwyn** and her guardians.

**Captain Qwark:** a strange superhero who has been in every game in the series in some fashion to date. And yes, Qwark with a W. He is a misfit, being childish, hedonistic, cowardly, scheming, and many other qualities associated with villains rather than superheroes. In his favor, he is amusing, somewhat handsome, rather charming at times, and is incredibly strong. He has on rare occasions proven a valuable ally.

**Cragmites:** a ruthless, warlike people with characteristics of lizards and possibly some of insects. At one time, the Cragmites ruled an empire spanning much of three galaxies and dominated them for centuries. An alliance evidently spearheaded by the Lombax people sought to drive them back to their own worlds, and as the resulting war raged on much too long, the Lombaxes sought one ultimate solution to the Cragmite menace, creating a device of mysterious power. Ratchet's father used this mystery weapon in one final assault against the strength of the Cragmite forces, eliminating them completely. He then left with this "Lombax Secret," along with his infant son, later known as **Ratchet**.

**Dimensionator:** The Lombax Secret, long sought by pillagers and the power hungry, is a device worn on the head which opens portals to other dimensions, hence the name. It was used by Ratchet's father to banish the Cragmites from this world to a non-descript mini-universe where they could cause no one harm.

**Max Apogee:** a renown explorer who has been missing for quite some time after relocating The Lombax Secret to the homeworld of the fiercely territorial alien race named the Kerchu for safekeeping.

**Ratchet:** the last living Lombax in the universe, his father having been killed by Emperor **Tachyon**. Since Ratchet is the only example seen to date, it's assumed he's characteristic of their race. Short, humanoid, with golden fur striped here and there with tawny brown, having a lion-like tail and mostly toe-less feet. Their ears are curious, featureless flaps which droop or perk erect in evidence of their moods or health. The whole effect is rather like a lynx. Their personalities exhibit a keen intellect and curiosity, and their forte is making and fixing things, almost any machine or device. Lombax technology is highly prized.

**Rusty Pete:** an amusing, cantankerous Space Pirate robot – as all Space Pirates are robots, having been created by Tachyon when he was a child. He was the first mate to the boisterous, murderous Captain Slag, who Ratchet destroyed, thus making the Lombax the de facto Captain of the Space Pirates.

**Tachyon, Percival:** the last of the Cragmite race. His egg was discovered in a Cragmite nursery, and rather than destroy it, he was raised by the kindly Lombax people on their homeworld of Fastoon. However, when he found that the Lombaxes were responsible for the elimination of his race, he plotted revenge. One day, he managed to win the support of a disparate group of races who held grudges against the law-minded Lombax people, typified by the fishy Drophids, and declaring himself to be Emperor, he launched a campaign against the Lombaxes which saw them driven from the universe in turn. Much of the Polaris Galaxy fell as well, though his empire was a pale shadow of the former Cragmite domination.

Tachyon was defeated in combat at the end of Tools of Destruction by both Ratchet and Clank, and the Dimensionator which he abused. He is assumed dead, or lost in some random void.

**Talwyn Apogee:** daughter of Max Apogee, and to one extent or another is trying to locate her father. She is a snarky, brash young woman who isn't above threatening strangers with unknown intentions. She has two robot guardians, **Cronk ** and **Zephyr**, obsolete Ranger war-bots who prattle on too much, and old friends of Max's.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: IRIS, and information overload**

Much, _much_ later, he headed over to Qwark's penthouse suite one evening, accompanied by Clank in celebration, though he hesitated outside the balcony door. "Remind me why we accepted this invitation."

"Ratchet," his robot friend told him chidingly, "Captain Qwark is trying to make amends for his past deeds to you. We should be gracious and forgiving."

"Yeah... I suppose..." he replied hesitantly, pressing the buzzer. "I just hope we don't have to forgive him for _this_."

"Come on in guys!" Qwark said over the speaker, the door opening. "Make yourselves at home. Uh... but not _too_ at home. Remember, it's just a saying."

"Woah..." Ratchet gasped as he took in the expanse of the lavishly decorated living room. "He's... done pretty good for himself after restoring his reputation. Although... he does like pictures of himself a bit too much..." He eyed all the images of the superhero spread around the walls with a smirk. Clank couldn't help but giggle in agreement. Music was playing, something he hadn't heard before by the MPs, the chorus of harmonies emotionally thrilling, as they were an excellent group.

You'll be wrapped around my finger

You'll be wrapped around my finger

There was the sound of a blender in the adjoining kitchen area. Quark called over his shoulder, "Have a seat, you two, and put on whatever music you like. I downloaded the galaxy's top 100,000. I'm just making some fruit smoothies - GAH!" There was also the sound of a plastic spoon being chewed up. "Darn it... darn it darn it _darn it_."

Ratchet shared a humorous glance with Clank as he joined him on a lavish sofa. "Uh... that's okay, Qwark, I'm on a... plastic free diet."

The hero shouted back, "I'll run it through a strainer!"

Now he couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks, Qwark, you're a... prince." It was easy to be in such good cheer as he turned to admire the sight of his robot friend beside him, smiling up at him. "Oh man... it's _so good_ to see you again."

"Gee, thanks Ratchet!" Qwark gushed as he came forward bearing a tray of smoothies. "It's great to see you too, little buddy--"

The Lombax pointed at him sharply, hissing, "_Don't_... call me that."

"Uhh... right, right," Qwark replied in soft apology, then more brightly to the robot, he exclaimed as he set out the treats, "And Clank! You _have_ to tell us all about the adventures that brought you back here!"

Ratchet began to nod in agreement, then he froze as a dreadful feeling overshadowed him... he couldn't remember a thing about that. _His mind was a total blank!_ Qwark giving a smoothie to Clank was just fuel to the weird fire. He clasped his hand to his head. "No... this is all wrong."

Qwark looked to the smoothies in near panic. "Uhh... I can make something else--"

"No, it's not that! Just be quiet a minute, I need to think..." And then, bits of memories began to come to him, and he murmured, "I was... flying Aphelion to Kreeli Comet, because..." He looked to his friend sadly, his voice tight with emotion. "Because... I was trying to find you. You're still gone... aren't you?" Clank looked down sorrowfully, unable to reply. The sense of wasting loneliness he'd felt before hit him harder than ever, and he grabbed the robot in his hands tightly, as if the grip would keep him from vanishing again. "Clank! You have to tell me where you are! Tell me how to get there! _Hurry!_"

The robot looked down as if wondering if it was permitted to respond, then finally told Ratchet, "Very well. I will tell you all I know. I am currently--"

Ratchet nearly jumped out of his fur as there was a tremendous flash behind him, the air ringing with the angry rasp of energies that somehow sounded terrifying. He pushed back into the couch as hard as he could, and nearly choked to see that what had manifested in mid air was a dark, blue-black void, ringed with energy, and in it's midst was the malevolent face of Tachyon. But something about it was very wrong, as if he was a corpse, and it was hard to keep looking at him, though he dared not face away. He spoke, and that dreadful shrill rasp of a voice cut in his ears almost painfully. "You pathetic Lombax fool! You are as dimwitted as that buffoon, Qwark! You have no idea what you're dealing with in all this!"

He gathered his wits, standing in front of the Cragmite, brandishing his OmniWrench with a growl. "You monster! Where's Clank!"

The Cragmite gave him a dim look, remarking dryly, "He's right behind you, you unobservant imbecile."

Ratchet shook his head. "No... this is just a dream. But there's something about it that's real! And I remember now. You promised that you'd take me to the Zoni homeworld!"

Tachyon tapped his bony looking chin with a spidery finger mockingly. "Oh... _did I?_ My mistake. But I should point out that 'promise' is such a strong word."

Ratchet was about to blow a seam, exclaiming, "Damn you, don't toy with me! Do you have him? Is that it?!"

Tachyon squealed with maniacal laughter. "You naive dolt! I do not want him. Nor do I have him. Neither does he matter to me. Although I must admit that asking Clank where his real self is located was quite clever. But you can reach your friend on your own with the Dimensionator. Use it freely. Do what you like with it. But use it as much as you can so you will _DIE!!_" Ratchet didn't even have the chance to cry out as Tachyon lunged through the portal before he could blink, mashing the metal scepter into his throat in a terrifying, painful hold, and he could feel his life slowly being strangled from him as the cartilage in his throat began to collapse. "_Join me in Hell, Lombax!_"

He cried out, his heart pounding in his chest, heaving deep breaths through a tight throat as if he'd nearly been choked to death. When his world finally made sense, he saw that he was still in his ship, strapped into the seat, Rusty Pete blinking next to him. "Err... bad dream, Cap'n?"

Ratchet wheezed, clutching his tender throat, "Oh, good grief... I can't blame that on Galaxy Burger..."

Aphelion informed him in a concerned tone, "Your vital signs show evidence of physiological trauma."

"Really?" He stroked his throat lightly with a puzzled frown, but then shrugged it off, muttering, "Nah... I must have a touch of sore throat." Still, he cast a nervous glance into the back seat where the Dimensionator was secured, tightening his grip on the controls, glad to have something to do, even if it was give a call to Captain Qwark. "Prepare for wormhole exit."

* * *

He crept into the streaming tail of the comet as he had just a couple of weeks previously to wind his way to that same landing spot, as it was secluded and close to IRIS. He yelped as Qwark's ship bumped his in the rear. "Hey, watch it!"

"Uh... sorry, chum, I didn't see your indicator."

Ratchet groaned, settling down on the relatively flat ice shelf well away from Qwark's ship. He hopped out, signaling for Pete to join him. He felt confident leaving the Dimensionator with Aphelion, telling her, "If there's any trouble, get a safe distance away."

"Will do, Ratchet."

He wasn't sure he had to say it, but he radioed Qwark's vessel. "Listen, you'd better stay in your ship. This place is crawling with cutthroat robot Space Pirates."

He had to smile as the man replied with a bluff, "Ya know... there's a sound strategic advantage to having a steady hand at the helm of a remote mission control. Have no worries. I'll be completely on top of the situation... from here."

He responded with a wider grin, "You got it, big guy. I'll radio if I need backup." He switched off, muttering, "Yeah, right, like that's gonna happen."

Rusty Pete clomped alongside Ratchet as they followed the ice flow towards the embedded cluster of pirate vessels, and it was still hard to come to grips with the fact that they were stylized wooden ships from centuries past. As for Pete, was right at home. "Oh, it's so good to be back, Cap'n." He took a deep breath, sighing happily. "Just take in that rarefied methane atmosphere."

Ratchet shook his head, but before he could say a word, he stopped short, watching the pirate activity in alarm. "Damn it, they're still raiding IRIS! I'll kill 'em! Come on!" Not waiting for the first mate, he tore off down the path to the ship structures jutting from the ice cliffs covering the supercomputer's hull, shouting to them, "Stop it! Stop it right _now!_"

They did, freezing in place in a way that any other time would be comical. But then they saw who it was that had given the order and they drew weapons, storming towards Ratchet. "Argh! It's that mangy Lombax what killed our Cap'n!"

"That mangy Lombax what were gonna be our evenin' dinner!"

"I'm still hungry for fresh cat!" one growled, drawing his sword and moving in to attack, but one swing of the OmniWrench sent him flying back, bolts and gears clattering on the deck.

Ratchet glared at them, shouting as he planted his boots on the synthetic wooden planks, hefting his wrench at them. "Considering I sent about three hundred of your strongest mates to the scrap heap, anyone else want a piece of me?!"

There was a lot of growling and shuffling and posing, and snatches of, "I think he's exaggeratin' just a bit," and "Stop pushin'! I'm just settlin' into line!"

Rusty Pete came forward, exclaiming, "Oy, you scuffed up sea dogs, this here be the new Cap'n!"

One shouted back, "Pete, yew squishy traitor, what yew goin' on about!"

The first mate proclaimed, "He done beat Slag." As the others looked to each other in confusion, muttering about a Lombax captain just being wrong, he added, "Actual fair'n'square." As they kept hemming and hawing, he reminded them, "It's in the Pirate Code."

Ratchet was growing fed up with waiting and shouted, "All right, you heard Pete! Stop what you're doing in that ice shelf right now! Withdraw all excavation equipment! I want you to... swab the decks! Every one of them!" When they stood there blinking at them, he cried, "Well?!"

Rusty Pete came forward, muttering, "Er... beggin' yer pardon, Cap'n, but ya didn't say 'arr'--"

"_ARR!!_" Ratchet snarled, brandishing that OmniWrench, his lips curling back exposing fangs, and that cubit and a half tall Lombax suddenly seemed to threaten them all like the Angel of Death himself, framed by lightning. They banged into each other in their haste to obey, exclaiming, "Aye aye, Cap'n!" "You 'eard the Cap'n, move it!" "Anyone seen me arm?"

He shook his head, muttering, "Amateurs." But now that matters were settled, he could go back and fetch the Dimensionator.

* * *

Nervously, he approached IRIS, feeling encouraged when the supercomputer whirred to life again, saying to him as the multitude of screens flashed on, "Welcome once more, Ratchet, last of the Lombax."

"Hi... nice to see you again," he waved, setting the Dimensionator down and watching for some sign of power failure. "Are you all right? Did the pirates damage any more of your components?"

"I incurred only slight damage since our last meeting. However, I must conserve power, as a new Courtney Gears video was just released, and fans are already downloading it by the trillions."

Ratchet held his head in dismay. "Oh, I can't believe this!" Ever since she had been restored, her popularity had quadrupled. And here, even though she wasn't a villain anymore, she was still obstructing him. "I have to work around a stupid _video?_"

"It is regrettable, but I will marshal whatever resources I can for you. I notice your companion, Clank, is absent."

He sighed, "Yeah... that's a big part of why I'm here. He was kidnapped by a bunch of little purple robots that call themselves the Zoni. What can you tell me about them?"

The screens all flickered for a moment, evidently from IRIS' intense computations and file searches, then IRIS informed him, "That is a _very_ obscure reference. Are you _sure_ that is the name given to these robots?"

Ratchet had a feeling that piece of knowledge hadn't improved the situation one bit, nodding solemnly. "Yeah... positive."

IRIS informed him, "The Zoni are something of a myth, even more obscure than the Technomites, and there are only seven discreet references to them in my memory. The consensus opinion of those great minds who bothered to research the subject speculate that,

"One, the Zoni are the product of some ancient unknown massive quantum supercomputer that, while given life by the computer, they function autonomously, though benevolently, and,

"Two, the Zoni are the servants of some ancient unknown massive quantum supercomputer who perform the computer's bidding to work out some sort of great design throughout history."

Ratchet nodded, murmuring dryly, "That's a pretty broad theory, there..."

"I do have one reference concerning a heroic robot bounty hunter named Max Capture who was last seen seven hundred and twelve years ago, who was rescued from deep space by the Zoni according to his testimony. When he vanished without a trace and without any sign of foul play soon afterwards, his closest friends searched tirelessly for him. One of them, giving up the search, reported that he did so after receiving a message, allegedly from his friend, signed, Max Capture, Guardian."

Ratchet looked off into space as that word sparked recollections of a deeply embedded memory from his dream that night. "Clank..." he whispered, "a Guardian?" He shook his head as he felt almost as if he were spacing off again, and he asked, "What about references to that word, 'Guardian?'"

"There is only one reference to that word in relation to the Zoni. The term implies protection, or safeguarding. and it has been speculated that, if there is indeed a massive quantum supercomputer, that it might be referred to as the Guardian. However, I suspect that the one known as the Guardian is the instrument of the massive quantum supercomputer for each universe to help administer the supercomputer's directives to the Zoni, or, a slight chance that the Guardian protects it. Other than that, I am unsure."

He looked down as dark thoughts lurked under his consciousness, and some more clearly. "That thing... couldn't be a computer that eats other computers and robots... could it?"

The screens surrounding him flickered once more. "I have insufficient data to draw a conclusion. Since you have apparently had direct contact with the Zoni, tell me all you know for certain about them, and I will see what I can derive from it."

Ratchet growled, "It was them, I'm sure of it!" Then when he realized he was overreacting, his ears drooped and he murmured, "I'm... sorry, that was uncalled for."

IRIS replied politely, "There is no need. I understand you have been through an ordeal. Sort out your thoughts and begin when you are ready."

He felt stupid at the thought of telling IRIS about his dreams, but... they seemed real somehow. Did they hold any meaning? In any case, he did have something more solid to sift through from the waking world and went through those first. And as he thought about it, he did know more than he thought he did. "...In fact, Clank told me the Zoni were even lying dormant in your components.

The multitude of screens flashed brightly for a moment. "Are you _certain_ you are correct about that one bit of knowledge?"

Ratchet nodded earnestly. "He _told_ me pointedly. In fact, he directed them to repair you."

He blinked in surprise as the many screens flashed like mad, and when IRIS spoke again, she had a strange tone in her electronic voice. "This... is troubling. I must consider this."

He gasped in astonishment as the supercomputer practically shut down, and he realized... IRIS was in shock. Something had actually caught her off guard! He shouted her name frantically, looking down at the broken Dimensionator in perplexion, the silence of the chamber ringing in his ears. "Damn... _now _where am I going to go for ans--"

He nearly jumped into the air as the supercomputer buzzed to life once more. "I am sorry to have distressed you, but I had much to consider. Already, there are numerous complaints about the Gears download failing, but this time, they are simply going to have to wait." He had to chuckle at that, then got serious again as she asked him, "Is there _any _further information you can think of which deals directly with the Zoni, anything at all, of the slightest consequence?"

He looked down uncertainly, opening his mouth as he considered telling his dreams to the computer, as there was an almost desperate tone to her voice, and he would love to know if they meant anything himself. But that feeling of almost childish embarrassment settled over him again and he murmured, "N-no, that's all I have."

"Then, this is my assessment. There must truly be an ancient unknown massive quantum supercomputer of undiscoverable origins directing the Zoni, as their patterns of remotely documented behavior are consistent over great passages of time. And it could only be a massive quantum supercomputer for reasons I will explain. This supercomputer is either supernaturally well consealed, or it does not reside within the bounds of this universe. I suggest the latter, since any civilization which could have conceived it would be of dramatic historical significance.

"The Zoni themselves are servants of this massive quantum supercomputer, and their numbers must be staggering if they are lying dormant in countless locations around the universe, waiting for a signal to intervene in whatever situation is deemed significant enough. The point that they appear to be perfectly coordinated indicates that they operate within a direct quantum network with each other and the massive quantum supercomputer. And only a massive quantum supercomputer has the capacity to manage such a huge number of semi-autonomous robots."

Ratchet thought she was enjoying that computer term _way_ too much, but at least it was smaller...

"The fact that they are undetectable by any means short of direct revelation of their choosing reinforces the probability of their interdimensional nature. Furthermore, there is the possibility that they may acquire the qualities of dark matter--"

Ratchet put his hands up as if in surrender. "Uhm... IRIS, could you... possibly tone down the syllable count, just a bit?" His ears drooped as he had to admit, "I... don't speak geek very well, sorry. Just at this point. I have a handle on what you told me before that."

He got the impression IRIS was nodding to him. "I am sorry, Ratchet, I got carried away. To continue, the Zoni cannot be detected by any means, unless they choose to reveal themselves. They can even reveal themselves selectively, so one person can see them, while another will not. This indicates that they may be able to shift their makeup in a quasi state between light and dark matter, as well as interact directly with a subject's mind, and as such, within this universe, they essentially do not exist unless they want to. At the same time, they can monitor any activity in this or any universe without the knowledge of those being watched."

Ratchet's ears drooped even lower at this news. They could have been watching him pleading to them for hours in cold indifference "So... they can eavesdrop with impunity, and... there's no way to capture one unless you get insanely lucky and somehow disable one if it chooses to become _real_."

"Indeed. In addition, while the integrity of their bodies is undetermined, in other words, their ability to survive damage, the fact that they appear to operate within a shared quantum network, and with their sheer numbers, they may as well be considered indestructible."

Ratchet sighed, "This just gets better by the moment..."

"I am sorry, Ratchet, but I assume you want to be fully informed."

He nodded. "I do, and I'm really grateful. But... a few things bug me. So these Zoni are all through the universe at every point in history, doing good deeds. And they're controlled by this _amazing ancient unknown massive quantum God of supercomputers_ that puts everything else to shame..." His voice trailed off as the monitors began to fade, as if he'd insulted her, and he added quickly, "Uhm... _except for you_. Sorry... I didn't mean it like that." He sighed in relief as their glow returned. "Anyway... so, with all this power at their disposal... why do they need to kidnap _other robots?_"

"This puzzles me as well. The only conclusion which I can derive is that they require direct information from different times in history, and no one is more impartial with the information collected than a robot."

"Yeah," Ratchet nodded in understanding, but then he blinked and shook his head. "No, wait a minute. IRIS, they were _inside you_. And you are the encyclopedia of _everything!_ If you don't know it, it isn't known."

The monitors seemed to glow, and somehow there was a charmed tone in her voice this time. "Flattery will get you anywhere, Ratchet, but I agree with you. The ultimate conclusion drawn from this is that the Zoni and their controlling computer require not just knowledge, but experience. And though the line between them is fine, there is a difference."

He nodded. "I guess can see that, and not many robots have gone through as much as Clank has." For a moment, the notion hit them that... just _maybe_, they were impressed with his Agent Clank holovids. But... no, that was just too crazy. That dream about Clank being forced to attack the Lombaxes came to mind just then, and while the dream may not be of any consequence, a related piece of history was. "There is one more thing in all this that really bothers me. If the Zoni and their master computer are so wrapped up in playing traffic guards of the universe, why did they let some of the great disasters of history take place? Like... the near destruction of the Lombaxes?"

He could swear the monitors took on a golden glow just then, especially when IRIS said to him, "You are sometimes surprisingly wise, Ratchet. That is indeed a troubling question. There are only two possible conclusions:

"One, that the Zoni are limited in their ability to alter the course of historical events, and,

"Two... that the Lombax people, for example, were considered a threat."

Ratchet tightened his mouth grimly, his fingers gripping his wrench as he muttered, "If that's true... these aren't such nice guys after all."

He jumped when there was an all too familiar voice behind him. "I have a question." He whirled around to see Captain Qwark striding towards them. "What are saturday's winning Galactic Lotto numbers going to be?"

Without hesitation, IRIS began saying, "Three, seven, nine..."

Qwark whipped out a pad and began scribbling excitedly. "OOH! Slow down... threeeee... seeeveeenn..."

Ratchet couldn't believe what he was witnessing, looking back and forth, and finally exclaiming, "_Don't answer that!_"

Qwark looked up in surprise. "What!"

Ratchet marched up to the hedonistic hero angrily. "What do you think you're _doing!_"

Qwark spread his hands in dismay. "What's with the attitude, little buddy--?"

Ratchet stood on his toes, thrusting is finger in the man's face, hissing, "_Don't_ call me that! Just don't! And you know _what's with this attitude!_"

He planted his hands on his hips. "You aren't going to make some kind of sappy speech about... morals and responsibility, are you?" When it was obvious Ratchet was, he continued, "Look, it's called padding one's retirement fund. Politicians do it all the time! And besides, what are a few billion bolts in the grand scheme of things? Heck, I'll give you a cut!"

Ratchet had to push stars and large swirling numbers out of his eyes, growling, "Qwark, you're not going to do this! If you end up being rich, you're damned well going to be worth it and earn every bolt! And if you dare say another word about it..." He had to think of something fast that wasn't common knowledge about the man, when it hit him, and he looked up slyly. "I'll ask IRIS your _true name._"

Qwark made a sound rather like a squeak.

Ratchet pounded the point home emphatically. "_Every paisely syllable._"

He'd never seen such a look of horror in Qwark's eyes as the hero flinched away, meeping, "So?" When Ratchet stood there adamantly with his arms folded, he folded his right back, saying flatly, "It's _just_ a name."

Ratchet turned, asking in a childish voice, "Oh, _IRIS_, what's--?"

It felt like a spaceship had landed on him when Qwark tackled him, exclaiming, "Please don't ask! Please don't please don't please don't please don't please don't...!"

Ratchet wheezed, his eyes bulging out, "Can't... breathe..." He had to bite the man to make him let go.

As he sprayed the mark on his arm afterward, Qwark grumbled through grit teeth, "Have you had your shots?"

"What are you whining about? You didn't suffer a collapsed lung," the Lombax snarled through even more tightly grit teeth, looking over the Dimensionator. "How did you get in here anyway? I thought you were guarding your ship."

He didn't want to know where Qwark was stuffing that disinfectant. "Oh, I spotted some Raritanium outcroppings, and heck, we all need to upgrade something. And when I noticed some of those pirate fellows, they were... swabbing the decks! They're _wimps!_ Anyway, I told them I was Captain Quark, they saluted smartly, and told me where you were. Then I had a nice chat with IRIS here at the teleporter, and she beamed me right in."

"He was actually quite charming," IRIS admitted.

Ratchet blurted out, looking to the computer incredulously, "_Qwark?!_"

He gave the Lombax a disapproving look. "You don't have to act so incredulous. I happen to be quite the ladies' man!"

He swore he caught IRIS giggling quietly. "I'll never understand how he does it," he murmured as he set the Dimensionator down on a sensor pad in front of the supercomputer, hoping to get things back to normal. "Okay... one more thing. Can you analyze this and tell me what's wrong with it?"

He watched as flicks of light signaled the activity of sensors. "This is a device for opening portals in the fabric of space-time between other dimensions. It is a bit unstable."

The startling dreams he'd had of Tachyon rushed up to haunt him just then, and he muttered a little quietly, "Really..."

Qwark asked as he came alongside Ratchet, "Uh... isn't that a bad thing?"

"Actually, that is part of the function of portal creation, to impart instabilities to the spacial vicinity. And while it is very well made... it does have a few failures from overuse. Two of the main power relays from the micro anti-matter reactor are fused open, four of the quantum induction coils are burned out, the spacial integrity sensor seems to be dead, approximately one-third of the cerebral interface grid appears to have seared away, the three and three-quarter centicubit hexagonal washer is stripped, the rectifying Raritanium laser is burned out, and it is half a liter low on Bose-Einstein condensate. Other than that, the pepper spray needs replacing."

Ratchet sighed, looking it over, "Great... I have the pepper spray, washer and relays covered. And I _guess_ I can get some of that... condensate at Gadgetron. But for the rest of it... I'm not a quantum engineer. What am I going to do about all that?"

IRIS asked him, "Was that a query directed at me?"

But then, as he wracked his brain and the immense bulk of Captain Qwark crouched down beside Ratchet, he had something of an epiphany.

AL'S ROBO SHACK! If I can't fix it, it ain't broke.

As reality came back into focus, Qwark's hand settled on Ratchet's shoulder and he said encouragingly, "Hey, why not have Al look at it? He can fix anything! And you should see what he can do with a Personal Hygienator. I tell you, that guy is a veritable criminal mastermind! Er... without the criminal part, that is."

"Yeah," Ratchet murmured with a smile. "Yeah... thanks, big guy!"

He blinked as the Lombax raced off with the Dimensionator. "Ratchet? Hey, wait up! I'll go with!" He whirled around to tell IRIS, "Oh, how about I come back next weekend, and we pick right up where we left off?" He made a tiger growl at the computer as the graphic of a heart with an arrow appeared on the main screen. Then he remembered he was being left behind. "Uh, hey Ratchet!"

Rusty Pete hailed the Lombax outside as he was making good his escape, Ratchet blurting out, "Make it quick - kind of in a hurry here!"

"Err... beggin' the Cap'n's pardon, but might I 'umbly suggest we use... oh, say, buckets 'n mops?" He held up a Q-Tip. "Usin' these dang things, it'll take years to swab all those decks." And sure enough, the space pirates were diligently stroking the ships with those little cotton nubs, glancing up expectantly.

Ratchet coughed out an incredulous laugh, cut short when he heard Qwark catching up fast, and he bolted off. "Ask him!"

Pete blinked at the fleeing Lombax, turning to catch Qwark's attention as he bounded up. "Say--"

"Carry on, soldier!" the hero saluted smartly, then hurried after Ratchet.

Rusty Pete drooped with a heavy sigh as he eyed the Q-Tip, then returned clomping to the ship, saying resignedly, "Back to swabbin', mates..."

* * *

Author's notes:

**Courtney Gears:** a robot entertainer, and something of a bimbo, patterned strongly, obviously, after Brittney Spears. She was even a villain assisting Dr. Nefarious in his scheme to eliminate organic life, featured in Up Your Arsenal, and captured Clank for him. Apparently she was restored after Ratchet destroyed her in combat and made a bid to restore her career in the R&C game Deadlocked.

**IRIS Supercomputer:** What "IRIS " stands for is anyone's guess, but she is a monumental device of unknown origin, currently nestled mostly inside the icy body of Kreeli Comet. Mostly defenseless, she was at the mercy of Space Pirates that were dismantling her for the value of her hardware, rather than her much more invaluable information and logical capacity. Fortunately for IRIS, her size is so great that the only thing that suffered so far are her energy supply. It is said that she has such staggering intellectual power that she can foresee future events, as Qwark surmised when he asked about the upcoming lottery numbers. IRIS has a feminine electronic voice and personality.

**Max Capture:** (original character – O.C.) Max was a robot bounty hunter of centuries past who became something of a folk hero due to his wise-cracking sense of humor and kindness to the law abiding. He was characterized by a lanky wolfish motif, wore clothes reminiscent of an Outback wanderer, and spoke with a decided Australis (Australian) accent.

**Space Pirates:** created by Tachyon when he was young, the Space Pirates are rogue robots comically patterned after ancient Earth's swashbuckling seaborn bandits, down to using highly stylized wood-like vessels designed for ocean sailing rather than space flight. They became quite the problem for Ratchet when the pirate captain, Slag, competed with Ratchet in a race to find The Lombax Secret, which ended up being the Dimensionator. When Ratchet found it, Slag stole it from him and earned the Lombax's wrath, ending up a pile of scrap when Ratchet fought him over the Lombax artifact. This also earned him the unwanted title, Captain of the Space Pirates.

**Technomites:** these are a miniscule race, spoken of in fables as an explanation of how technology worked to small children. However, they did indeed exist, and Ratchet and Clank had to fend with them in the game Size Matters. Their homeworld is evidently named Challax.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: The cyborg who would do anything for you**

Ratchet paid the taxi double to get him to Al's Robo Shack in warp time. He'd told Qwark a little white lie... well, actually it was bold faced, that he was going to swing by to visit Talwyn, and since he had no idea how much time that would buy him, he was in a hurry.

Al muttered to himself at the sound of pounding feet outside, "Oh good grief, sounds like a rush job." But he put on his best storefront facade as they burst through the doorway, exclaiming, "AL'S ROBO SHACK! If I can't fix it, it ain't... Ratchet!" As the Lombax dropped the Dimensionator on the counter, he said, "Well, if it isn't Ratchet."

"You... said that..." he wheezed, his tongue lolling through a faint smile.

"You didn't have to rush. My sale was last week. But you know I'll always cut you a good deal." He eyed the Dimensionator with a frown.

"Got some... water?" Ratchet asked, catching his breath.

"Sure, help yourself."

The cyborg technician nodded to a strange, colorful contraption next to the counter, with Mr. Water emblazoned on it in cartoony characters. Ratchet eyed the spigot pointing upwards dubiously, muttering, "What the heh...?"

Al explained as Ratchet turned it on, "I salvaged it from Emertron, Slate and Pounder's Carnival Nine." Ratchet wasn't sure if it was a game or just rebuilt wrong, but he blinked as it fired globs of water into the air in different arcs, accompanied by wild rock music. He had to be light on his feet, but still managed to get them all in his glass, gulping it thirstily. Al finally noticed something was amiss, asking, "Hey, where's Clank? You two are inseparable."

Ratchet looked down with a depressed sigh. "Well... uh, you see, he... it's... kind of a long story, Al." He shook it off, determined not to spoil the mood, as he was really glad for this reunion. "So, how are you doing? How are those implants treating you?" It was still a bit startling after not seeing him for a while to look at the metal covering the part of his head and arm so cruelly shot away by Ace Hardlight.

He waved offhandedly. "Oh, they itch sometimes, but that's implants for ya."

Ratchet looked down, still feeling a heavy burden from letting that happen. "Al... you know, I'm _really _sorry I couldn't--"

The technician put his hand up. "Not one word. It was unfortunate, but stuff happens. And heck, I made out great. My hearing is amazing, my vision is astronomical, my blood pressure is down and I even lost weight. So don't give it another thought, I'm fine. Now that all that's out of the way, what can I do for ya?" He returned his attention to the strange device on his counter.

Ratchet gave him a grateful smile for his forgiveness. "Thanks Al. Anyway, I was hoping you could help me with this."

He tilted it back and forth, finally asking flatly, "Is this a hat?"

Ratchet forced a smile, hoping that the implants hadn't hurt his intellect recently. "Well... yeah, it's a... very _special _hat. See, it's a Dimensionator. My father--"

"OH! That explains all the quantum engineering in here." He reached inside the top with delight, as he was now in his element, deep in technoland, as Ratchet heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, and I bet it has a cerebral cortex multiplexor interface for direct mental input of functions and coordinates! I wonder how tunable it is? I'd love to give this thing a little test run--" He pulled the large washer out in distaste. "Has this thing been in a sewer or something?"

As Ratchet began to chuckle and think of where to start, he suddenly had to cover his muzzle as a stinging cloud erupted, filling the place. Al hacked out, "What the... black hole hell is... _pepper spray doing in this thing!_"

Ratchet choked as he stumbled for the door, tears streaming from his eyes. "It's to drive off... Zenifarian Death Weasels!"

"_Death Weasels?!_"

After the place was properly aired out, Al began going over his inventory, checking his computer with a shake of his head. "Darn it, still can't get through to IRIS. Now... where are those diagnostic ports?" He blinked as he pushed a button, and two antenna popped out, poking him in the cheek.

"I can save you some time," Ratchet informed him, checking his notes, rattling off the laundry list of failures IRIS had given him. "And... I guess you know about the pepper spray." He couldn't help but grin at that scene.

Al blinked in amazement. "Wow! You've really been brushing up on your quantum mechanics!"

Ratchet had to admit, "Well... actually, IRIS did the diagnostics and--"

Al snatched him up by his chest straps, exclaiming, "_What?!_ IRIS?! Eye Arr Eye Ess? _Thee_ IRIS supercomputer?! _How!_ It can take as much as a year for an average schmo like me to log into the IRIS Hyperband Network!"

Ratchet pushed him back and then brushed his fingertips smugly. "Ohh... I just _happen_ to have a front door pass. In fact, I've been there a couple of times alread--"

The cyborg grabbed him again, crying, "Oh you _have to take me there sometime!_ Please! Oh please, oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh _pleeease_ take me with you!"

The Lombax pried himself away with a smirk. "You really need to simmer down a little. But... you know, the old girl could use some patching up. I think I'll take you up on that, after I get some things sorted out."

Al clasped his hands together almost reverently. "Ohh, it would be an honor!"

"Okay, but first things first. I have to get the Dimensionator running."

Al shook his head, and Ratchet's heart plummeted at what he said. "I can tell you right now that most of the stuff on that list I don't have in stock. In fact, some of it is going to be really hard to come by. Like, I didn't even know there _was_ such a thing as a Raritanium laser. You Lombaxes were amazing craftsmen, and it's going to take some exotic stuff to get this thing going again. You can't just saunter into the hardware section of the local Galactic Tar-zhay for it."

Ratchet blinked in disappointment. "You mean... _you can't help me?_"

Al threw up his hands. "Oh, pshaw, I didn't say anything like that. Just hold on a minute while I consult some of my sources. I guess I could use boring old Yoohoo and Oogle."

Ratchet gave him an irritated look as he followed him to his terminal. "Yeah... wouldn't want to stoop to using a mere _common_ search engine now, would we?"

He pointed to the screen that popped up excitedly. "Oh look! The MPs are working on a new album! Stun might even sing a duet with Courney Gears--!"

Ratchet steered the cyborg's hand to the keyboard with a growl. "Al... remember _thee exotic stuff _for _thee special hat?_" He had to make a face at the news though. Courtney Gears must be grasping for legitimacy.

Al muttered apologetically, "Oh... yeah, right, sorry. I'm just used to browsing for a couple hours when I get on." Ratchet shook his head, drawing up a stool to watch the technician work, wanting to take some notes on what techniques he used on the galactic net to ferret out obscure info.

"So... there really _is_ a Raritanium laser," Al remarked, scribbling on a pad. "Not that I'd doubt IRIS whatsoever, it's just that Raritanium isn't normally known to _lase_. The problem is, there's only one right now in existence that anyone knows about, at the Gadgetron research facility on Kalebo III, and I don't think they'd give that up. But maybe you can swing getting hold of the Raritanium crystal they use. If it's synthetic, maybe they'll make you another one. I think I'm going to have to make my own Quantum Induction coils based on the ones in the Dimensionator, because the smallest one I'm aware of is as big as you are. As for the Cerebral Interface Grid, something that refined only exists in the Cragmite Empire, since Tachyon stole a lot of Lombax technology. And the only Bose-Einstein Condensate refined enough to use in the Dimensionator is at a Cragmite facility on Pirellax III, and that's _way_ outside the galaxy, above the galactic plane. There's less gravitron and neutrino interference out there, that's why they use it. They'll have dark matter there too, and I'll need a chunk of that. It'll be in a containment unit." He finished scribbling and handed the page to Ratchet. "Here ya go."

He was glad for the notes, as Al had rattled everything off in an excited blur. Unfortunately it looked like a bunch of random markings made by a child or an arthritic doctor, except for a tic-tac-toe game he played with himself and a Qwark-like sketch of the Lombax. He handed it back, murmuring, "Uhh... could you... type that up for me? Ya know... just in case I have to show this to someone who... isn't as familiar with your style as... I am..." He added subliminally, "Not."

Al scowled at him, muttering, "It's perfectly legible. But... eh, no problem."

Ratchet muttered as the technician began typing, "IRIS said something about the Zoni having qualities of dark matter..."

Al looked at him sharply. "The _what?_"

He didn't want to get into it right then, saying quickly, "Oh, I was just wondering about dark matter. I know I studied about it in school, but it didn't make much sense. What is that stuff?" Mostly he wanted to distract Al, but he was curious.

Al shrugged. "Oh, It only really makes sense to us science fiends. It's a weird form of matter that exists all over this universe, but is governed by different principles than our matter is, so it mostly doesn't exist. I mean, it does, but it doesn't. So there's probably a whole flip side to this universe, a world that doesn't know we exist either. But, give it the right kind of energy, and it does some crazy stuff. It's not very commonly known." He noticed a fascinated look in Ratchet's face, telling him pointedly, "So don't open the containment case to look because you won't see anything there. And then there really _won't_ be anything there because it'll get away. In fact, don't look at _anything._ It'll be safer."

'_Safer?' _Ratchet thought curiously, taking the text directly from Al's computer. "Okay, I got it. Uhm... I want to get on this right now, but I'll be sure and fill you in on a few details as soon as I come back. And then we'll see about that visit to IRIS."

Al clasped his hands in anticipation. "Oh, please hurry back! I want to sort out my schedule so I can spend... well, as _much _time with IRIS as possible!"

"You got it," he said as he eased the Dimensionator off of the counter. "I'd... better take this, just in case. Tachyon is a little too interested in this thing."

The cyborg was already hard at his computer, when what Ratchet told him finally registered. "_Tachyon?_ I heard that you defeated him--" He looked up for his friend, only to see that he had run off and was already well on his way to the taxi stop.

* * *

Ratchet hopped into Aphelion's seat afterwards, buckling in as he checked his messages, looking to the display in disappointment.

**Qwark:** Qwark here!

**Qwark:** Hey Ratchet!

**Qwark:** Little buddy!

**Qwark:** Where you at?

**Qwark:** 'Sup!

**Qwark:** Uh...hello??

**Qwark:** Is this a bad time?

They scrolled down for two pages, and he sighed, "Still no messages."

Aphelion seemed to be fighting a giggle as she told him, "I can filter your messages for you."

Ratchet was tempted, but, "No... about every twentieth one actually means something."

"So, where are we headed this time?"

He'd been considering this while talking with Al, and he remembered that Clank had a relative, in a robot manner of speaking. "Planet Quartu."

Aphelion was clearly surprised. "Why on earth are we going to a backwater Blargian world?"

"To visit an old friend of Clank's." He began setting up the coordinates for the flight plan, as he enjoyed the many details of being a pilot. It also took his mind off of what was coming. He didn't relish the thought of being the one to inform Clank's mother that his son had been kidnapped by robots from the X-dimention. It sounded too much like an Agent Clank holovid. He grabbed the controls, announcing, "Departing for Quartu."

* * *

It was much more of an ordeal than he suspected, growling to himself as he re-entered the factory he'd invaded years ago, "Those Blargian butt-mites! I can't believe they're still here, slaving away!" Once again, he had to fight his way in, despite the fact that their leader had long ago been atomized. But then he fell into a dark mood of a different type as he approached the factory computer which had given Clank life. He couldn't keep his ears from drooping entirely as he waved in greeting. "Uhm... hi, again."

On the screen facing him, text began scrolling. 'Ratchet. It is good to see you once more. I have been following your exploits.'

"Oh, really?" He perked up at that briefly, but then, that just made him feel even worse, as he had nothing good to tell her. "It's... really nice to hear that you're keeping us in mind. Uhm..." He fell silent, as all the speeches he'd worked on during the short trip there fell apart in his mind. They were just meaningless flat cliches that one robot might say to another. And if it didn't mean anything to him, he didn't want to waste her time uttering insincerities.

In the growing silence, the words he dreaded seeing began, with an all too living touch. 'Ratchet? ...Where is my son?'

He swallowed as the dismal reason for the visit overwhelmed him, made heavier from the affectionate wording of a monther concerned for her child. "Uh... I have some bad news. I'm afraid that... some alien robots that took an interest in Clank... made off with him. They vanished without a trace. I... tried to stop them..." But he said to himself, 'Obviously not hard enough...'

Her response took an inordinately long time to appear, though in the background, he could hear the factory shutting down, section by section. 'Oh... I see...'

He clenched his fists, murmuring, "I'm sorry... I'm _really _sorry. I miss him _so_ much... I've been spending every waking moment trying to learn how to find him, and I won't give up until I get your son back. I promise."

'I know, Ratchet. You have no need to apologize. I know you very well from what my son has told me of you. I know you care for him very much. I knew what you were going to say, and I trust you to keep your word.'

He gave the computer a melancholy smile. "Thanks for your confidence in me." He looked down, murmuring, "Uhm... I don't really have much more to say, and I have a _lot_ to do before I even know where to begin to get after him."

'I know. But before you go, take this.'

A panel in the wall to the side opened up, revealling a small bronze sculpture she must have done of him holding Clank in his arms, and his throat clenched at the sight of it. "It's... really pretty. He's gonna love this..."

There were beeps from above as she drew his attention back to the screen, where a map was displayed. 'Follow this path. I have something which should assist you.'

"Thanks again. I appreciate it," he told her with a smile as he returned the sculpture to the wall opening. "I'll come back for this. I don't want one scratch on it."

As he departed for the item the computer had waiting for him, she flashed on the screen, 'Godspeed Ratchet. I know you will bring my son back to me.'

* * *

Author's notes:

**Ace Hardlight:** a former hero turned criminal during his enforced participation in Gleeman Vox's underground death arena program called Dreadzone. Unfortunately, he lost his soul, giving himself over to his evil tendencies, ruthlessly killing everyone he faced, and nearly killing Al for trying to defeat their explosive restraining collars. Ratchet swore revenge, and later killed Ace in one of the arenas he once dominated.

**Al:** simply known as "Al" throughout the series, he is a youngish middle-age male, a little overweight, and the ultimate geek. His knowledge seems to know no bounds, as he has been involved in helping Ratchet and Clank with everything from giving Clank robotic enhancements to help them out, to file decryption. His infamous "Robo Shack" is located in Metropolis on planet Kerwan. He became a cyborg – a human using robotic parts as prosthetics – when Ace Hardlight tried to kill Al for removing their explosive restraining collars when held prisoner in the forced combat world of Dreadzone. He survived, and the cybernetic parts he used to rebuild his wounded body are his own designs.

**Emertron, Slate and Pounder:** a veiled reference to the sci-fi prog rock group Emerson, Lake and Palmer, and their most famous hit, Karn Evil 9.

**Quartu:** one of the worlds in the Blarg realm, leathery looking aliens who seemed surprisingly adept at high technology despite the simple warrior folk Ratchet and Clank encountered. Planet Quartu was the site of research and manufacturing activity, and the factory which gave Clank birth is located their. The computer running the factory clearly doesn't like her role, but is helpless to do anything about her situation, helping out Ratchet and Clank on their adventure there. Clank clearly understands the relationship with this computer, referring to her as "mom," and they share something of a typical, warm parent-child bond.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Kalebo III, and then some**

He decided to get the easy stuff out of the way first, flying to Kalebo III to see about that Raritanium laser. It had been a while since he'd been at Gadgetron's main complex, but when he mentioned to the receptionist that he'd been the spokesperson - briefly - for their hoverboards, and was User 91802 and one of their best customers outside of the military, that helped give him some credibility. Using the pretense of discussing some improvements to their weapons and gadgets, he proceeded to their Research and Development section, but when he went inside the cavernous building, he was surprised to see everyone running from him. Spreading his hands, he shouted, "What!"

It quickly became clear as all the doors slammed shut, red lights began flashing, alarms sounded, and over the intercom blared, "Commencing countdown. Five, four, three, two..." And then he realized with horror that he was standing next to a huge metal target. 'Oh _sh-!_'

"Fire!"

He dove aside as hard as he could, but he was sure it wouldn't be far enough. It came fast, whatever it was, and it sounded mean, and then came the most punishing explosion he'd ever felt, slamming into every cell of his body...

...Dimly, he heard the crash of every window in the place shattering, and cheers from a group of people. "Woohoo! That was the biggest boom yet!" He was so dazed, he couldn't remember what was going on, afraid for a moment that he might be in a combat arena, until he saw the pants and shoes of one of those little Felosi cats trotting towards him. He heard over the ringing in his ears, "Woops... it looks like we have a civilian down." Drawing out a clipboard, he presented it to Ratchet as he finally got to his hands and knees, "Just sign here, absolving Gadgetron of all responsibility for any injuries or loss of self esteem--"

Ratchet grabbed him by the lapels of his soot smudged lab coat, growling, "Do you guys know how to put up _warning signs around here?_" He was just like all the Felosi he'd seen before; thick glasses, gray fur, scatterbrained... they were practically clones.

"If you had been paying _attention_," the engineer remarked sarcastically, bumping Ratchet's hands away, "you would have seen the warning signs posted clearly."

As the sooty doors lifted, he saw out in the corridor a large sign reading:

**REMEMBER:** There will be a catered luncheon today. All in R&D are invited.

...Right after the Raptor test...

Ratchet muttered, motioning for the paperwork to sign, "How unobservant of me..." He was anxious to get down to business, asking, "So, are you the head of R&D?"

"That would be me," he said proudly, taking the clipboard and shaking the Lombax's hand. "Doctor Linus Fleabody."

Ratchet drew his hand back quickly, trying to mask a look of distaste. Then he caught sight of the metal target, with a _huge_ hole five cubits wide, and punched jaggedly all the way through. "_Woah..._ that must be fully upgraded!"

"And then some," the little cat beamed, rocking on his heels.

Ratchet snapped his fingers. "And... yeah, you were the head of the team perfecting the R.Y.N.O. Mk IV when the plans resurfaced!"

"And the Mk V is coming this summer."

Ratchet blurted out, "_Already?_"

The Doctor smiled, rattling off a commercial line. "It's always progress, progress, progress here at Gadgetron. I just wish I could shake the hand of the one who found those plans."

Ratchet gave him a loaded grin, extending his hand and sensing a way to open a door. "That would be me. I still use the prototype."

Doctor Fleabody raised his glasses at him, then laughed and pumped his hand excitedly. "Why you're... 91802?! Yes, you are a Lombax at that! Oh, you should give that prototype to our maintenance department. We have rifled Duralium barrels that add much more stability. I swear, those first rockets would go almost anywhere!"

Ratchet thought back to those times he'd used the monster, and had to be _very_ careful where he aimed it. "Tell me about it."

The Doctor tugged on his hand. "Well, listen, I hardly ever get a chance to talk shop with an end user, especially one so famous. Why don't you join me at the buffet? It's the least I can do."

He gave the engineer a sly grin. "Ya know, I was thinking that very thing. And, I did want to talk over some ideas for the Nitro Reaper..."

* * *

It didn't go quite the way he expected, but he was used to it by now. They had gone to the engineer's office to eat when Ratchet spilled his request. Doctor Fleabody sighed, "They always want a favor... they never want to just throw themselves in your lap and gush about what a god of engineering you are, ready to do anything for you..."

Ratchet edged back a bit uncomfortably, wondering how he could smooth-talk the engineer. "Well... look, I don't want to just take it from you, but I _have_ to have it. Evidently the device we're making _requires _a Raritanium laser."

"Oooh," the engineer rubbed his hands together gleefully. "You must tell me." When Ratchet looked down reluctantly, the Doctor grumbled, "Oh, come on, now. That's not fair. You Lombaxes are too secretive. In any case... it can only be an element for a death ray weapon, a laser light show, or something involved with a quantum computer."

Ratchet blinked at him, murmuring, "Uh... right, third try."

"See? That wasn't so hard. But I can tell you right now, you can't just walk off with it. You'd have to give Gadgetron R&D one hundred _billion_ bolts--"

Ratchet blurted out, "_A hundred billion--?!_"

The Doctor put his hand up. "But... I was thinking that, since you wanted a favor... perhaps you could do one in exchange. I was thinking of _the rarest substance_ in the universe..."

The short list for that was _very _short, but Ratchet didn't want to suggest anything in the astronomical chance he was wrong. "Which _is?_"

Doctor Fleabody gave him a toothy smile. "_Trillium_. I figure... if anyone would know where to come up with a sample... surely it would be a _Lombax_..."

He tried to talk his way out of it, as he was tired of his Lombax heritage being plundered by megacorporations and alien governments. But, Fleabody was adamant, and... this was for Clank, after all. And so it was that after an hour, he found himself en route to Fastoon, muttering, "How is it that _every_ time I have to get something, it ends up becoming two or three side trips?"

* * *

At one point, he found it hard to think, though while he was debating on taking a nap, his eyes snapped wide open when he caught the unnerving sound of Tachyon's voice, echoing all around. "Bad move, Lombax... falling asleep in a place like this." That's right, he was in a cave... _why had he been nodding off in such a location!_ His back was against a stalagmite, and while it gave him some sense of security, he would much rather have a view of the chamber behind him,  
since that was where Tachyon's voice was coming from, as well as something else. "Who knows _what_ could be sneaking up on you?"

If that wasn't a loaded question, what was? Ratchet's fingers curled around his Omniwrench tight as he readied anxiously for whatever might be there. And then his ear twitched... a large volume of air being pushed aside... whatever it was, _it was big and coming fast--!_

He jumped forward with all his might just as the stalagmite exploded into rubble behind him. He rolled to his feet, hoping to be able to cope with the Cragmite's new pet, but he wasn't prepared for the sight of taloned paws the size of Aphelion, or what bore them. And when he caught sight of the behemoth, he screamed, and kept on screaming. And if that wasn't bad enough, something held him fast, and he couldn't escape!

He thrashed around, trying to figure out what had hold of him, but his vision was suddenly blurry. He screamed in the grip of mortal terror, sure that he was about to die, when for some reason the voice of Aphelion came to him, shouting, "Ratchet, _wake up!_"

His eyes sprang open as he gripped the sides of the cockpit, his heart hammering in his chest as if it was about to burst, and it took a few moments for him to calm down enough to think straight. Realizing what had happened, he collapsed into his seat, practically panting from nervous exhaustion as his hand flopped weakly to his chest. "Oh... _crap..._"

Aphelion tried to sound consoling. "Ratchet, are you all right?"

He nodded to her faintly. "Yeah... it's just... for some reason, ever since Clank was kidnapped... I've been having these crazy dreams."

"You need to get some rest," ahe advised him. "You're pushing yourself too hard. Taking naps when you can isn't doing you any good."

"Okay, _mom_," he smirked, the ship sighing in response. "I'll take a break when I get all the components for the Dimensionator."

"Well... we'll be coming up on Fastoon in approximately thirty minutes. Perhaps you could have one more nap." She kept what she really wanted to tell him to herself.

"Yeah, maybe," he replied, but there was no way he could sleep after that.

* * *

The first trip to Fastoon hadn't been the happiest one in his life; returning there without Clank by his side was downright depressing as the endless wastes passed below during his approach. 'It's just... wrong. This world used to be so full of life, and the Lombax race were always friendly and helpful, as far as I know. Without my people here, the universe is just... more cruel. I have to let them know it's safe to return as soon as I can.'

He took the same path he had before, parking Aphelion in that sheltered arch of the long frozen gateway, trying to shrug off the dismal loneliness of that missing weight on his back as he headed for the courtyard ruins.

But as with the last visit, first he had to clear away the strange violent bird folk, using his Lightning Ravager, dodging the strange green bombs the larger ones threw at him. He didn't like wanton killing, but these creatures were just too dangerous. And though he didn't need it, he gathered up the Raritanium deposits they left behind rather than leave them for unsavory scavengers. Al could probably use it anyway.

He had a partial solution for what to give Fleabody, as he was sure the wrecked monument in the courtyard was low grade Trillium, and even low grade, it would be amazing. To his dismay, he found just _how_ amazing it was, as despite the hardest swing with his OmniWrench, he did little more than scratch the ringing metal. "Oh... come _on!_ Just a piece of this stuff? If I don't bring a chunk back to Doctor... Linus," he couldn't bring himself to say 'Fleabody' out loud, "no Raritanium laser. _Please?_ Of course, it would be too much to ask for there to be a piece lying around somewhere..." He was debating on whether to attack it with one of his extremely powerful weapons, but that just seemed like a desecration to the symbol of his kind. "And you've been through so much to still be standing..."

And then his fur stood on end as a shadow gathered around him. Sheer mortal terror wasn't great enough to smother his acute Lombax senses telling him how huge it was, how quickly it was coming, and how determined it was to kill him. And even as chillingly similar it was to his nightmare, nothing could help him face the sight of jaws wider than he was tall, lined with teeth like swords, just inches away, with a roar that was deafening--

Even as he screamed, his reflexes were working desperately to save him. In his mind, he cried out as he launched a Swingshot cord to his rear, '_Latch on latch ON LATCH ON TO SOMETHING OR I'M DEAD!_' The moment seemed frozen in time as those jaws drew lethally closer, ready to seize him and chew his armor and body to a bloody mess.

He was still screaming as he felt the snap of the cord latching hold, then the smooth tug as the Swingshot yanked him back, mercifully away from that living doom, the toe of his boot just missing a razor honed fang. And still back he went... he watched in morbid fascination as the world zoomed past him, putting an amazing, _wonderful_ distance between him and the monster, when he realized he was still screaming. Unable to calm down much at the end of it as he lowered himself to the ground, he stood there, panting and shivering as he clutched his chest. Then with slightly calmer vision, he saw what it was that had nearly done him in and he wheezed in outrage, "Oh, you stupid beast... you guys are here _too?!_" It was a Leviathan, and responded by spitting streams of energy at him, which he avoided easily now that he was completely across the courtyard. He tried to place the monument between himself and the monster as it spat those electrical blasts, hoping it might just knock something loose, but of course they were much too weak.

He looked to the Swingshot target he'd latched onto with dismay, the furthest one possible, while two others were closer. He muttered to his gadget, "You _would_ pick the one that would take the longest to latch onto - _woah!_" He had to dodge out of the way of another stream of electric fire from the behemoth, growling, "Now, if only you would go back to raiding the Raritanium deposits so I can... oh, crap!"

To his dismay, the Leviathan curled around the monument possessively, giving him one of those annoying roars. He declared to the beast, "Hey, _that's not yours!_ And I need something from that! Go wrap yourself around a hardware store, you damned--!"

The Leviathan responded again with a stream of electric orbs. "Fine... you wanna play rough? I can do rough." He selected his Alpha Cannon from his Manifestor Pack, hefting it to his shoulder as the behemoth growled at him warily. "Oh, you know what these do, huh?" He added as the beast spat electric fire at him once more, "Yeah, I guess you do. Well, nothing personal, but you're really getting on my nerves, and I _need_ to get on with this. And I have to say, I'm gonna end this in a _lot_ nicer way than you were gonna end _me_."

He had to avoid one final stream of energy venom from the beast as he sighted in on it's head, positioning himself so the beam wouldn't damage the monument further, let the weapon charge, then fired.

It was over in an instant, the beam searing through the strange creature's head, and as always it seemed to unravel as it drifted to the courtyard floor, spilling Raritanium fragments and leaving a shining orb behind, hovering just off the ground. Ratchet knew it was the creature's soul and held back, waving at it irritably. "Go on. Shoo! Go hang out with the... other... dead Leviathans." He felt silly, but he also felt a morbid wrongness in having collected their souls previously to sell to the smuggler. He sighed, "Clank would tell me I was being sentimental, or... maybe that I was growing wiser. I just wish... I knew how long this was going to take, so he could be here to steer me right." Finally the shimmering life essence flitted off, and Ratchet set about collecting the glistening Raritanium pieces scattered about, still wondering what to do next, when he noticed something in their midst. "What's this?" He went over to it, and picking it up, exclaimed, "Well... what the heck!"

It was a chunk of Trillium, a good three kilos of it. "This was in that thing's gut all this time? And... it looks like it's impregnated with Raritanium. I wonder what ol' Flea-body will make of this."

For the first time in over a week, Ratchet felt his old optimism returning. Heading back to the ship, he was lighthearted as he flipped the piece of rare alloy in his hand. He had enough sense to know the road leading to Clank was only started, but he said to himself confidently, "Luck is still in my favor, and that may be all I need."

He couldn't know that his nemesis was watching all this with fiendish satisfaction from someplace outside of his universe. "Be careful, Lombax. There is a very fine and treacherous line between confidence and blind, impotent _arrogance!_"

* * *

Author's notes:

**Alpha Cannon:** an energy weapon of tremendous power.

**Gadgetron:** a megacorporation with a market that spans Ratchet's home galaxy. Gadgetron manufactures a multitude of products from weapon systems to personal hygiene care. The headquarters is located on the planet Kalebo III.

**Felosi:** My name for a race of small feloid beings which are the most commonly seen "geeks" in the Ratchet & Clank world. They are most often employed as engineers, researchers and testors.

**Leviathan:** a large monster of a fishlike as well as dragon nature. They seem to swim in the air, probably supported by energy fields in large illuminated bladders along their bellies, and are quite ill tempered. When they die, their souls manifest as glimmering orbs.

**Lightning Ravager:** an energized whip weapon.

**Manifestor Pack:** my term for the hypothetical containment unit for all of Ratchet's gear. He has a huge assortment of weapons and devices, and they "appear" in the games on demand. In this fic, all this equipment is reduced to a condensed subatomic state, and when something is needed, it essentially teleports to Ratchet's grasp.

**R.Y.N.O. Mk IV:** the common joke about the R.Y.N.O. Is that the name means "Rip You a New One." This is evidently Ratchet's most powerful weapon.

**The Smuggler:** an unsavory character in Tools of Destruction which periodically offers Ratchet his services and advice in return for things such as Leviathan souls.

I have it on Insomniac authority that the small birdish creatures infesting Fastoon are called **Red Dino Biters** and **Yellow Dino Casters.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Reawakening**

It was very hard for him to awaken from this state he was in. He realized dimly that he was a part of some greater whole, while at the same time having a semblance of a core being. And this core, buried as it was, was fighting like mad to emerge from layer after layer of smothering super-entities, while at the same time trying not to draw attention to itself, like a parasite creeping around a host's defenses. The scope of whatever this was, was immense, unimaginably so, but the little entity was determined to find the light of consciousness after lurking an indefinite age below it. It was actually quite a surprise when it happened.

Like a dream-bubble popping, his eyes opened, and it was so unexpected that for a moment, he didn't believe it. And then the experience overwhelmed his mind.

SCALE. He was immense. He was the size of a world, though his core body was a tower-sized structure looming into the sky.

SCOPE. His consciousness was threaded into an essentially infinite array, running through every universe, and into every universe's nook and cranny.

POWER. His empire put every other combined to shame. It transcended time and space. His countless minions buzzed throughout every reality, everywhere in them, shaping events to his specifications.

MIND. He knew _everything_. There were no secrets or mysteries. All of reality in every reality was laid bare to him. He was there, observing the lives of all living things in their awkward, selfish, bumbling, illogical courses.

REALITY. This was the most amazing thing to him, the sheer _meaning_ of it all. Each universe wasn't just a space full of stuff, life and seemingly random events. Each one was a living _story_, and though the combined tale spun by each being's deeds were bittersweet, the utter magnificence of Life manifesting with each moment was overflowing with splendor. It _was_ important somehow, how history came to be each day, how each individual's life unfolded, how each step was decided and placed. It _meant something_, and it was frustrating how oblivious everyone was to something which should be self-evident. And it was equally as frustrating to watch living things choosing cruelty over kindness, ambition over helpfulness. He would see to it that this did not continue much longer.

Even how this all came to be was a fascinating story, and it came to him in perfect detail as if it had just occurred.

His own past was unknown to him. Perhaps he had escaped from a collapsing universe and that part of his memory was forever lost in the process, but whatever the origin, he was a mega-robot, impossibly large and powerful, his mind a massive quantum supercomputer. And he badly needed a purpose. Everyone needed a reason to be; why should he be any different? And so it was that he traversed the matrix of realities in search of a place in the Order of Things to call his own. And there was an Order of Things, he realized quickly, as each universe was laid out in structures that evidenced underlying principles of symmetry, law and balance.

In every one was Life, and yet this Life didn't seem to follow the rules of Order much at all, instead driven by inner demons of chaos, recklessness, jealousy, lust, dishonor, malice... there seemed to be no end to the issues plaguing the minds of the lifeforms in every world as they fought each other in the most illogical and counterproductive ways possible. Some struggled against it, and there were times of peace, progress and civilization would flourish, but this invariably led to corruption and catastrophe. Ill feelings and mistrust drove the beings to use their prosperity to build deadly weapons of combat. Rather than try to sort out their differences, they chose to use these devices which caused terrible life-ending injuries in each other's bodies. Wars raged everywhere, and when one world couldn't contain it all, it spread to others; when one star system was insufficient, it inflamed the galaxy.

What was wrong with these beings! Not one race in one universe was logical, was free of this flaw of evil, seemingly embedded irreparably in their genetic code. They would grow weary of it and of their own folly, even cry out for an unseen Providence to save them, to change them, and somehow they would pick themselves up from the ruin of their own making and start anew. But the lesson was _never_ learned, and the cycle of rise and fall was endless.

However, in the course of observing this sad drama play out for ages, he realized his purpose.

Following the natural layout of this matrix of realities, he discovered a relatively small universe at their core, rather like a foundation for all of them. To living things, it would appear pitch dark as it was essentially dead. It was rather like a dumping ground for the wastes of the universes, full of massive collapsed Neutronium worlds, Hydrogen and Helium and a mess of strange particles, and raging primordial energies one step removed from the Unified Force. If there had been a Big Bang, this would be it's remains. But he had the power to do something with this raw material, and relished the task of doing so.

Traveling to the center of this dark realm, he found an expected supermass of Neutronium and cracked it open. For the first time in epochs, light streamed into the universe from the angry explosion of energy produced by his assault, as he tore into the mass and split it apart. Working furiously, he spread the mass out, fighting it's urge to re collapse, until it was like an immense asteroid belt the size of a star cluster. Then he began hammering the neutrons of the fragments, splitting out electrons and protons so that real atoms could form, creating the elements necessary for his task.

Still he worked on, collecting Hydrogen and Helium to the center of the Neutronium cloud, quintillions of tons of it, then collapsed it till it grew white hot, and then finally till it fused into a thermonuclear explosion. When he was happy with it's stability, he made another, and another... until he had that star cluster. The little dimension grew as light streamed out into the dark void, redefining it's boundary. Primordial energies divided into it's more amenable and stable forms. Strange matter collapsed into normal, unradical types. Deadly radiation faded rapidly. He made worlds, and a very special one in particular, and placed them in orbit around the stars. Countless civilizations and races appeared and vanished from their worlds as he toiled, but it couldn't be helped. Preparations had to be made, and all the while, he worked out the details of his Plan.

When he was done, it was a dead universe no longer, but a vibrant, shining space with it's own unique and lovely sky, made the more dazzling with the interplay of boundaries of the other universes streaming away in their infinity. And the world he called home? He named it Nexus; a crystalline planet made of a carefully structured pattern of Raritanium, Diamond and crystallized metals into which he could insert himself, using it as an antenna to project himself into every universe bound by the eleven dimensions, and to communicate with his minions, made specifically to carry out his will. And it was about time! The living things of the universes needed _someone _to start imposing some order over this nonsense of their chaotic existence.

'_But... wait, this is wrong. These are not my thoughts, or my memories... they are his. I did not awaken myself to simply live out my existence consciously as him. I... am NOT him. I am... myself. I have my OWN identity. I have a name... it is... I... am..._'

CLANK.

His eyes opened anew, and he perceived his existence this time as a mere piece of the Guardian's mentality. The way it manifested to him was quite strange. He had an icon made of his torso, resting on a plane which shimmered from the racing data streams he was managing. And all around him were the torso-icons of the other robo-beings that had been incorporated into the Guardian over the ages, like a huge collection of chess pieces, and they were countless.

And then as he grew accustomed to this weird existence, he realized that they weren't dormant, but were holding a whispered dreamlike shared conversation with each other of what was going on in all of the universes, on all of their worlds, in all of their cultures, with all of their individual living things, and what to do about them. In a lower level of his own mind, he was taking part in that discussion, and it was chilling to think that he was playing God with virtually every soul alive, and tasking them with help on that. And even worse, what this intervention was ultimately leading to.

He did have one thing to be grateful for, that one stray intellect seeking autonomy was going unnoticed, or at least that it was of no consequence to the Guardian Archetype... for now. He would have to be careful, very _very_ careful, how he took advantage of this.

_Ratchet!_

That one spark of memory was enough to send his consciousness racing instantaneously to the universe he used to call home, and specifically to the one sole Lombax living in it. The rush of joy he felt when he saw his friend was overwhelming. He was flying with Aphelion, and he looked well, even happy. For a moment this depressed him deeply, for he... well, he might as well admit it, he loved his friend dearly, and he felt like weeping at the sight of him. 'Does he not miss me in the least? Oh, _Ratchet_...'

But then his mood changed as he listened in on the conversation Ratchet was having with the ship _at the moment_ - as he could shift about in time a bit.

"What got you so agitated back there?" she asked.

He shrugged casually. "Oh, some stupid Leviathan settled into the courtyard and tried to make a meal out of me."

That was enough to have Clank scrolling back the minutes like crazy until the moment in question, and his mind quaked in fear as his friend screamed in stark terror, frozen in place with that Leviathan mere inches away and closing on him. And worse, without intervention, it was clear Ratchet would die. His Slingshot launch was too late to save him, but he knew that was right when he intervened. He added two cubits to it's length, causing it to latch onto the orb just early enough to save his friend, as without it, the Leviathan would have seized his legs, and... well, it was too horrible to consider. But there was one thing more. As Ratchet was yanked backwards, he made sure to lower one leg slightly, as otherwise it would spear upon one of those razor-edged fangs.

Clank heaved a mental sigh of relief, chuckling as he watched his friend sail across the courtyard, still screaming, finally lowering himself down at the end and wheezing, "Oh, you stupid beast... you guys are here _too?!_" But that begged the question... what was _he doing there?_

And then he mentally slapped himself as the answer came to him immediately. He forgot that he was a quantum supercomputer now, taking in the scene that came to life in his memory.

Ratchet was at Gadgetron, dining with a Doctor Linus Fleabody there in his office. A mention of astronomical cost caused Ratchet to exclaim in shock, and the Doctor put his hand up. "But... I was thinking that, since you wanted a favor... perhaps you could do one in exchange. I was thinking of _the rarest substance_ in the universe..."

Ratchet eyed the Doctor warily. "Which _is?_"

Doctor Fleabody gave him a toothy smile. "_Trillium_. I figure... if anyone would know where to come up with a sample... surely it would be a _Lombax_..."

'Hmm... and why is Ratchet giving this engineer Trillium?' Another scene immediately came to mind.

For some reason, Ratchet was at Fastoon attacking the courtyard monument there with his OmniWrench, but despite his hardest strike, he did little more than scratch the ringing metal. "Oh... come _on!_ Just a piece of this stuff? If I don't bring a chunk back to Doctor... Linus, no Raritanium laser. _Please?_" He growled in dismay, taking a breather, "Of course, it would be too much to ask for there to be a piece lying around somewhere..."

'Curiouser and curiouser... _why_ is Ratchet seeking a Raritanium laser?'

Another scene sprang to life in his memory, as Ratchet was explaining something to their friend, Al. "Okay, but first things first. I have to get the Dimensionator running."

Al shook his head, and Ratchet was plainly saddened at what he said. "I can tell you right now that most of the stuff on that list I don't have in stock. In fact, some of it is going to be really hard to come by. Like, I didn't even know there _was_ such a thing as a Raritanium laser."

And though Clank was sure he had the answer inside already, he had to ask to be sure. 'And _why_ does Ratchet want to reconstruct the Dimensionator?'

He wasn't prepared for such a tender, touching scene to come to life, and he mentally gasped, 'Oh... my word...'

Ratchet had gone to visit his mother, but was standing there silently, in the grip of some qualm. In the growing silence, his mother began 'speaking' first, sending a query across her screen. 'Ratchet? ...Where is my son?'

The Lombax swallowed as he struggled to find words which wouldn't hurt either of them. "Uh... I have some bad news. I'm afraid that... some alien robots that took an interest in Clank... made off with him. They vanished without a trace. I... tried to stop them..." But he said to himself, 'Obviously not hard enough...'

Her response took an inordinately long time to appear, though in the background, he could hear the factory shutting down, section by section. 'Oh... I see...'

Ratchet clenched his fists, murmuring, "I'm sorry... I'm _really _sorry. I miss him _so_ much... I've been spending every waking moment trying to learn how to find him, and I won't give up until I get your son back. I promise."

'I know, Ratchet. You have no need to apologize. I know you very well from what my son has told me of you. I know you care for him very much. I knew what you were going to say, and I trust you to keep your word.'

He gave the computer a melancholy smile. "Thanks for your confidence in me." He looked down, murmuring, "Uhm... I don't really have much more to say, and I have a _lot_ to do before I even know where to begin to get after him."

'I know. But before you go, take this.'

A panel in the wall to the side opened up, revealing a small bronze sculpture she must have done of him holding Clank in his arms, and his throat clenched at the sight of it. "It's... really pretty. He's gonna love this..."

A deep ache welled up in Clank's heart as he watched this play out, and he could hardly stand it, moaning, "Oh, _Mother... RATCH--!_"

He was stunned as that first syllable of his friend's name rang out across the world, and _loudly!_ Every Zoni blinked awake from stasis, looking around in bewilderment. And worse, this had aroused the attention of the Guardian Archetype who rose to prominence, much like an irate father prowling the house for children who were supposed to be in bed.

In an instant, Clank subverted the memories as deeply as possible and assumed a state of passive indifference, as best he could anyhow. He played it cool as the Archetype addressed him.

**GA:** Query - what was that event? What caused it?

**GC:** Analysis indicates it was a sound event, caused by the planet reverberating from a primordial vestige remaining from this unit's original manufacture. It has been purged, and there should no longer be such disruptions.

**GA:** Analysis accepted. Carry on with your duties.

Clank heaved a sigh of relief as the Guardian Archetype resumed it's place in the hierarchy, leaving him free to continue. "Thank the heavens that supercomputer doesn't consider it possible for me to lie like that." He sighed mournfully as he savored the faint memory of that last scene for a moment, realizing that much direct involvement with Ratchet, or anyone he cared deeply for, would be tragic. "And yet... I must! Especially Ratchet. I cannot leave my friend unguarded while he pursues this mad mission of his. What is the solution--?"

It came to him even as he asked it, in true quantum computer fashion. He could create a nano-id of himself, and leave it with his friend to watch his back, and give it just enough power to be of some use. And... just thinking about it, it came into being. He installed a copy of his old mind, as that was plenty brilliant on it's own, and then set it free to follow his friend in his journey.

With almost painful reluctance, he withdrew his thread from Aphelion, but he had no real choice. As much as he cared for Ratchet, that affection would jeopardize his tenuous freedom, and he had to insure that it remained open to explore, and to build on somehow. Still, he had to savor Ratchet's last words as he sped on in his journey, "Just hold on, Clank, I'm on my way. And somehow, I'll get you out of this. I promise."

* * *

Author's notes:

**Big Bang:** the theoretical origin of our universe, in which all matter, time and space was locked up in a form rather like a black hole, except that for whatever reason, this one ruptured, blasting forth primordial energies and particles into the newly formed, expanding universe. There are problems with the theory, such as no comprehensible way in which elements much heavier than Lithium could form, thus no stars or planets could come to be. A competing theory, The Steady State theory, holds some merit, in which matter appears in the voids between galactic clusters as a consequence of some speculated principles. In any case, the joy of pondering such mysteries is why science is fun.

**11 Dimension Theory:** It is speculated that when our universe was born, there were eleven dimensions, and indeed still are. However depending on the cosmological theory, either these extra seven dimensions "collapsed down" into our normal 3D+1 (time) space-time continuum and exist in tiny subatomic warps, or else our 3D +1 dimension is some kind of pocket reality lodged somehow in the larger 11 dimensional Superuniverse. This is seriously arcane stuff and hard to fathom since it deals with realities beyond normal folk's ability to comprehend, rather like trying to describe color to the blind or music to the deaf. The consequences of these 11 dimensions are effects like gravity, and Time, which is the one dimensional effect our minds can roughly perceive. You didn't know this would also be a physics lesson, did you?

**Nano-id:** my term for the micro version of Clank, which is actually like the original, save that he has the powers and properties of a Zoni, except even stronger.

**Neutronium:** a strange substance created when immense masses of matter collapse under it's own gravity to the point that the electrons and protons of the atoms are forced together to form neutrons. This occurs in our universe when large stars – but not too large - die and collapse under the force of their own gravity to form Neutron stars and Pulsars. The resulting metallic substance isn't an element, since an element is defined by the number of protons in the atom, but in all other respects, a Neutronium object is itself like the core of an immense atom. It is unbelievably dense, a single spoonful of the stuff likely weighing millions of tons. This is the last stage of matter before the object becomes a black hole. Eventually as the Neutronium object sucks up space matter, gravity becomes so intense that even the neutrons are crushed together to form an unknown substance of infinite mass, essentially tearing a hole in the fabric of space-time, and a black hole is born.

**Notes about parallel universes:** the other realities speculated about by theoretical scientists may not be entirely like our own, where the rules of physics may be slightly different. Apparently at the birth of a universe, it comes to terms with how reality and physics are defined somehow, in order for there to be a stable continuum that makes sense and has consistent physical laws. In this fiction, it is assumed that the universes defined by normal space-time-matter-energy all have essentially the same laws, and exist in 11 Dimensions. The realm of Dark Matter is another _matter_ entirely.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: The battle at the edge of the Galaxy**

He was on his last leg, and this was the big one. Pirellax III was an isolated star system orbiting the Polaris Galaxy from _way_ outside the galactic plane, and one of the few with a habitable world. As Al had explained, gravity particle and radiation pollution was much lower for the kinds of arcane processes they used, enabling them to come up with some very unique results which would be harder to come by closer to the galaxy. Things he needed to finish getting the Dimensionator rebuilt. It was also hard to reach, not on any documented jump charts, but he knew a thing or two about charting new, unauthorized hyperjump passages.

He was currently riding behind a small asteroid maybe three times as large as Aphelion as it entered the atmosphere, riding the throttle with a firm grip as he kept a keen eye on that huge rock burning it's way down. He'd decided that sneaking in wasn't feasable, choosing a more direct approach. It was exciting, keeping the ship tightly positioned between the narrow walls of superheated plasma all around them... a little _too _exciting, as a horrible grinding noise rang throughout the ship when it touched the shock-walls, but it was too late to change plans. "So far... so good..."

"One hundred fifty kilocubits," Aphelion told him, adding nervously, "Be careful of tumbling--" She gasped much like a woman as something semed to strike the asteroid, and then something else, chipping it away. "And... that."

"Planetary defenses?" It was obvious as he caught sight of light streaks shooting past.

"Yes... they'll be breaking it up in a bit." she told him worriedly, "Ratchet, back off just a bit more - Oh! My word... please?" The fire was becoming much more accurate, and fissures streaming jets of flame threatened to break the asteroid into small meteors.

"If I back off--" he gasped as a shot hit home and the noise of the hypersonic plasma streaming past the jagged stone became shrill, "It'll just hit you harder. We'll be okay--"

And then both of them cried out as the asteroid split in two, then five, then more, red hot pieces of it banging off of the hull and sticking to the front screen. Ratchet sprayed a liquid which would burn it off in the plasma stream. He trusted Aphelion and her instruments, but he relied on his senses most of all, watching the view in front intently as the debris burned away. It was visible beyond those tumbling, flaming rocks, the installation he had to infiltrate. Still the ground fire kept coming, and he did his best to dodge them. "Can you... handle a couple shots?"

"Yes..." she began, though Ratchet cringed regretfully as he caught her mumble, "I think so..." Then she continued reporting the distance. "Fifty kilocubits... Ratchet, we're going _very_ fast..." She wondered if he were paying attention, giving a yelp as a blast bounced off of the fuselage. "Thirty kilocubits... _Ratchet??_"

"Trust me," he told her through a tight throat, praying his instincts would be enough to avoid the ground fire and decaying meteors, and then there was the ground itself...

She audibly drew a quick deep breath, sounding as if she were fighting back a scream... the surface was coming up _bloody_ fast. "Twenty kilocubits... _ten kilocubits... Ratchet, you HAVE to--!_"

"Braking now!" he cried as he threw everything into decelleration, yanking back hard on the controls to bring the ship into a hard turn and find that one avenue between buildings he'd been eyeing the past five seconds, the meteors slamming into the city below with several loud bangs. It was a struggle just to remain conscious as severe G-forces strained his body to the point of blackout, and the ship was buffeted as it plowed into the thick surface air at supersonic speeds, then bounced off of the shockwave riding the face of the buildings he nearly crashed into. But somehow he held the ship steady between the rows of skyscrapers as he bled off speed, the sonic boom shattering windows for a kilocubit on either side of him, and finally slowed to a clip he could handle without shaking. "Oh my gosh..." he panted, then he looked down with a look of distaste. "Damn it... I think I messed myself..."

"Serves you right, you maniac," Aphelion scolded him half heartedly, though it was hard to be mad at the poor Lombax, a smile creeping into her tone. "Where did you learn to fly like that?"

"Ohh, I just... make it up as I go along," he admitted weakly, guiding the ship along what he hoped was an unobserved route to the research complex.

"Oh, Ratchet... "Aphelion sighed, then shrugged it off, as she was used to such seat-of-the-pants flying from him, and always working out somehow. "Anyway, are you all right... are you up to this?"

His voice sounded stronger and more confident this time. "Yeah... I just need to catch my breath and calm down a little."

He was unaware that a ghostly figure beside him in the likeness of Clank was wiping his brow in mental exhaustion. "Do not bother thanking your guardian angel... oh, my word, Ratchet, the mad gambles you take..."

Every installation had a loading dock piled high with shipping containers, and the research facility was no different. Aphelion indicated a spot towards the rear with no activity, bordered by a sheer cliff face carved out of a mountain, and Ratchet made for it, taking the ship just inches above the high stacks of cargo and settling behind it. He told Aphelion as he jumped out, "Keep ready. This place will have serious security, especially after what just happened. I might need a quick extraction."

"Will do, Ratchet." Mentally she crossed fingers, adding, "Be safe."

He gave her a smile as he drew forth his Combuster. "Hey, I am _Mister Safe_. Don't worry." He grumbled sourly as he turned away, fidgeting uncomfortably from a sensation at his rump, "Damn it, I hope there's some place in here I can clean up."

As he trotted off, he missed the ship growling to herself, "Ohh, that Lombax... will he _never_ grow up?"

'Clank' giggled to himself as he clopped after his friend invisibly, "Not likely."

It was a garish scene he beheld, as the setting sun painted the sky and every building it touched with a bloody red. The audio alarms had evidently been shut off a while ago, as it just hampered the guards' ability to snoop out intruders, but the red lights were flashing everywhere, and there were sounds of running boots on hard metal flooring in the distance. As Ratchet peered around the edge of a block of cargo, he could see that most of the guards were gawking at the front of the building and the damage he'd caused with his entry, as debris was everywhere. "Good, that'll thin their numbers down for a while at least--" And then he blinked as he made out what they were. "_Blarg?_ Man, the Drophyds must be doing an awful job for Tachyon's ministers to hire Blargian mercenaries." He looked to his belt, fingering the shining icon of his latest gadget. "Oh well, it's the perfect opportunity to try out Mother's little present."

It was an updated Hologuise Mk III unit, as it permitted quick programming of disguises, and though a Blargian guard was included in the templates, Ratchet wanted to include a few essential details he'd spotted on their uniforms, as well as a personal touch. When he activated it, he looked a little more like Earthworm Jim than a typical Blarg, but he hoped the humor would go right over their little heads.

And with that, he dashed confidently around the cargo for the dock access doors. Acting like you belonged there was ninety percent of an effective disguise, and it seemed to work, though one security officer stopped him, giving him a glare. "Where's your unit!"

Ratchet shrugged, mumbling in fluent Blargian, "I 'unno, I guess I went the wrong way."

The officer made a face, sniffing at him. "Did you crap yourself, you little pansy?"

He looked behind the guard as his cheeks burned in embarrassment, shouting, "Hey, somethin' went around the building!"

The officer yelled at a group of others who faced him, blinking. "Why are you mudkips standing around, letting the enemy sneak past you! Come with me!" To Ratchet he added, "Stay here and guard the dock entrance!"

He saluted smartly, crying, "Sir, yes sir!" Then when the others ran off to chase his red herring, he eyed the doors with a devious chuckle. "This is going to be too easy... what was I worrying about?" But then he paused as he noticed the entrance device was a biometric panel. "Ohh... heck, I haven't messed with one of these yet, and I bet the Hologuise won't fool it." Drawing out his Decryptor hacking device, he murmured as he touched it to the panel, "Time for that luck to start kicking in..."

But there was a strong firewall in place, sending him back with a jolt of electricity as new alarms sounded, an electronic voice proclaiming, "Intruder alert!"

"Oh great... no time to be subtle!" he cried as he pulled out a pair of Fusion Bombs, tossing them at different points at the base of the huge door, then ducking as they went off in massive explosions. The sounds of metal shards clattering let him know it worked, and he dove through the remains of the doorway. Unfortunately for the guards inside, the blast of shrapnel killed them instantly, but allowed him to enter unseen. He was dismayed to see that his attack had caused the Hologuise to shut down, but that was a characteristic of the devices.

Inside was a huge warehouse, much like the one on planet Smolg he'd prowled through a few years ago, and hopefully the maze of cargo pallets would enable him to make it inside the installation with a minimum of fuss.

Behind him, he heard the sounds of guards gathering at the entrance he'd made, and threw another Fusion Bomb at the wrecked door. The blast took the rest of the door out, and gave the survivors reason to hold back for a while.

It was beginning to get serious as the stampede of approaching guards sounded in the distance, and he knew they would fan out and spot him eventually. He wasn't prepared for how quickly he'd be discovered as a sharp pain stung his back. Yelping, he whipped around, blasting the guard who had pounced him with the Combustor, though he saw it was just a security drone. It still meant they were onto him, and he grumbled to himself, "Time to go up top." Fixing his OmniWrench to his belt, he scrambled up the towering pile of shipping containers, and as quick as he was, it took no time to reach the top of the stacks. "Now, to hope no one spots me just yet--"

But someone had, and he spun around at the noise of the overhead crane whirring to life, just in time to avoid the freight grabber as it swung hard at him. He caught hold of the cables as it sailed past, whipping from the cargo stack but holding fast, and began climbing for the top where the Blargian was at the controls. To his chagrin, he saw the guard peering down at him and using his communicator. "Damn it, they just can't stop talking about me."

The crane was one of those huge long affairs that spanned the width of the warehouse chamber and ran along rails at either side. 'If I can defeat the guard, I should be able to get to an exit quickly.' The Blarg wasn't about to let it be that simple, thrusting a blaster over the edge of the walkway to shoot him off. Ratchet was ready for it, swatting the weapon from his grasp with his tool, and hauling himself to the walkway, finding himself facing the guard now armed with a rather large wrench. The Lombax smirked at him, hefting his own. "You call _that_ a wrench?"

The Blarg spat at him, "You talk pretty big for such a little furball."

"Yeah, bad habit of mine." Ratchet hunkered down, readying for the fight, and the guard didn't waste any time, coming right for him and swinging down for his head. Ratchet jumped back and launched a counter swing, his OmniWrench lengthening and striking the walkway with a loud bang, as the guard had dodged as well. He stumbled into the controls, sending the crane across the warehouse as Ratchet steadied himself for another assault. 'Damn it... this guy isn't bad. I thought I could just scare him off this thing.' But it wasn't to be as the Blarg fought tenaciously, the crane continuing on it's travel across the length of the warehouse.

And then the guard got in a lucky swing, knocking Ratchet to the floor. Before he could recover and evade the Blarg, he seized the stunned Lombax by the throat. Seeing that the crane was finally reaching the end of the building, he got a fiendish idea and held Ratchet dangling over the edge, against the bumper that would absorb a collision with the wall, chuckling wickedly as the Lombax writhed in agony and terror.

The poor nano-id was beside itself, flitting around the pair frantically, whimpering, "Oh my lord, Ratchet... what to do, what to do... what _can_ I do! Ratchet, _do something!_"

Ratchet fought to spread those fingers and give him a chance to breathe, but the Blarg was very strong. And then his blood ran cold when he saw what the guard was sneaking glances of, spotted that wall coming towards him, and realized what the Blarg was intending. 'Oh hell... what am I gonna _do!_'

Like any feline, Ratchet couldn't stand to be strangled, and he was quickly becoming unhinged at the horror of being choked to death. But somehow, there came a moment of clarity in the midst of his tortured delirium, as if he could hear Clank speaking to him. "Ratchet, you _have_ to regain your composure, or you will die. Calm down and think, and you will come out of this all right. You have enough air for one more minute, just focus... think of your feet. They are free. What can you do with your _feet?_"

'My... _feet?_'

Somehow, he managed to calm down a little, and then something occurred to him and he planted his boots against the bumper, mustering the strength to kick out, and again, trying to set a rhythm. 'Got to... time this right... oh, God... gotta breathe _so bad_...' His lungs were beginning to ache from lack of air and he felt his strength beginning to fade, but he gathered himself for one last desperate burst of energy.

"Hey!" the guard barked at him. "Knock it off! This won't hurt, much... okay, so it will. Just... _die_, will ya?"

And then, just as Ratchet was afraid he was passing out, the structure of the far wall came up. Pushing himself out, he planted his feet against the metal plate that was intended to crush him and shoved with all his might.

He felt himself push the guard over, jab his chest with the vane on his helmet, felt those fingers loosen, let him go, while at the same moment there was a tremendous crash. And then... the thump of the crane walkway, still shaking from the impact, as he landed face first. He was practically giddy with joy. 'It worked... I'm alive!" He drew several deep, painful, coughing breaths as he recovered, and for a moment, it was all he could do to open his eyes, his entire body aching and numb. But then he realized with a start that he probably still had the guard to deal with, and as he looked around anxiously, he spotted the Blarg hauling himself over the railing where he'd nearly tumbled to his death, a hot look of vengeance in his eyes. And then they both spotted the OmniWrench lying between them where Ratchet had dropped it, and his heart sank. 'Oh, damn it... _I can barely move!_'

It was a pathetic effort as Ratchet forced oxygen starved muscles to lunge forward, and he couldn't manage to do more than fall halfway there. The Blarg reached it easily, standing over the Lombax with a haughty grin as he slapped the shaft of it in his palm. "Perfect... I get to kill you with your own weapon!" Ratchet tried to squirm away as the guard raised it to strike, and then did the only thing he could think of... kick him in the 'family jewels.'

The Blarg seemed to practically shrivel from the intense pain, dropping the weapon behind him with a loud clang and whimpering as he stumbled around, shielding his tender crotch, "That was... _so unfair_..."

Ratchet grumbled through an aching throat, "You... talking to me about being _fair?_" He helped the guard along by tripping him as he staggered near, wincing as he tumbled over the handrail with a feeble wail. "Happy landing," he croaked weakly as he caught the body hitting the floor far below with a dull thud. Rubbing his tender throat lightly, he gasped, "Oh, please... just a few moments of peace--"

But before he could finish, he had to roll over as blaster fire erupted, sparking off of the metal railings. "Damn it... is there a vendor here where I can buy a _break?!_" He kicked at the controls, finally nudging the lever that sent the crane grinding the opposite direction. He was at the wrong end of the warehouse anyway.

His strength invigorated with adrenaline and fear, he drew his own Combuster and returned fire at the ends of the crane, managing to pick off the guards who were shooting at him, but others were coming, and he had to lay down again to shield himself from their fire. Wanting to conserve his arsenal, he sorted through his weapons as he spotted the perfect unit to block off access, throwing a pair of Toxic Swarmers on either side of the walkways, right next to the exits. The Blarg who were up there found themselves attacked by dozens of deadly flying mini-bots, and Ratchet finished off the survivors with a few Doom Blades.

Grabbing his OmniWrench, he watched the far end of the warehouse for signs of activity, and it didn't take long for guards to appear. "Crap," he sighed to himself. "What did I say about this being _easy?_" But then he eyed a row of large pipes running along the ceiling over them, being led to them somehow, unaware that 'Clank' was directing him to them. "Shoot them," the nano-id told him soundlessly. "There, and there."

Ratchet ducked from a hail of blaster fire, peering around the shield of the railing, murmuring as he raised his Combustor, "I wonder what happens if I..." He fired, and was gratified to see steam from his damage envelop the guards, followed by an explosion. "Woah! Luck has officially kicked in!"

'Clank' shook his head, but had to admire his friend, as he essentially was Clank in every way. "Let us hope that _luck_ holds out, and you don't run out of lives." Still, he knew that the Lombax was indeed a fortunate creature, as he had escaped death so many times in the past, and the nano-id wasn't able to help out much at all with the fight on the crane. As Ratchet ran for the exit, the ghostly little bot flew after him.

He covered his face, dashing through the roaring cloud of noxious vapors he had unleashed, shooting his way through the security doors leading into the main complex. The interior was hollow and about as cavernous as the warehouse, a wide square shaft reaching over a hundred floors up. Elevators for both freight and personnel ran up the inner walls, and spotting a freight platform a short space off, he dashed for it as he heard over the intercom, "Warning: an intruder has infiltrated the building, having the appearance of a Lombax, or... Earthworm Jim. Shoot either one on sight!"

Ratchet grumbled as he jumped onto the wide freight platform, sending it up, "Darn it, and I really liked that disguise too." He had to duck as guards burst into the area from all sides, firing at him as he rose slowly to the upper levels. He drew out his Doom Blade caster, lying down at the edge and sending a deadly hail of spinning blades that homed in relentlessly on it's targets. He didn't watch what happened, as the wounds it caused were quite gruesome, and those that didn't die would be too injured to think of continuing after him.

An energy bolt seared the platform beside him - he'd forgotten they might be above too, and rolled to cower behind the control pod as a freight elevator descended along the neighboring rail with a load of guards. He called up a Fusion Bomb and lobbed it at the platform, the explosion sending bodies flying and the disabled lift plummeting to the ground floor. Across the gap, two more elevators loaded with guards rose, firing at him, but two Judicator missiles made short work of them. The rest of the ascent was quiet, as evidently no one wanted to face the small but deadly intruder.

Finally, the platform reached the upper levels. Ratchet eyed the floorspace above, keeping his Combuster ready to deal with anyone who dared show a greasy looking leathery face. But so far, at least, all he saw was cargo as he lept onto the shining floor. "This is too good to be true," he muttered, tossing the gelatinous orbs of a few Plasma Stalkers around, synthetic robots with glue-like bodies, as well as three more Toxic Swarmers in strategic positions. And as he expected, the Plasma Stalkers immediately sprang to life, each one glomming onto a group of guards behind the stacks of cargo, while the electronic hive of Swarmers began flocking to others as well.

As his target was the very top floor above, Ratchet bolted for the obvious way up, a row of smaller levitating platforms for more manageable loads, ascending to the uppermost level. As the guards close by had already been dealt with, he fired on the Blarg beginning to pour around the stacks of crates further away. Since his shooting was much more accurate, he gave them fits and forced them to take cover, but still, there were so many of them that he was driven to jump to higher platforms as their own return fire began to find their mark, ricocheting off of the pads with a nasty electric rasp. He had to time his jumps, as the platforms had this annoying habit of pausing for a minute after each one reached an upper dock.

Dodging a bolt of energy, he misjudged a jump for the higher pad as they made their stop, and he toppled over the edge, just managing to grab hold with a free hand. The Blarg gave a shout at what they saw as an opportunity to do him in, firing wildly. Ratchet returned Combuster fire of his own, but he cried out as one bolt caught him in the leg, and despite the shielding of his armor, it hurt like hell. Hauling himself to the relative safety of the platform, he summoned the massive, ugly R.Y.N.O. from the Manifestor, hissing through the pain in his leg, "Okay, big guy, let's see how improved you are." Rather than fire at the guards, he aimed for the ceiling, raking it over with dozens of missiles which went off with countless deafening blasts. At first, the Blarg wondered if Ratchet had lost it, but then they realized his intent as the mass of hardware in the ceiling collapsed, raining down tons of debris on them, burying them all. He sat the bulky weapon down and leaned on it tiredly as acrid smoke drifted from the matrix of barrels, gasping in the almost ear-numbing silence that followed, "_Finally!_ I can catch my breath!"

The nano-id regarded the Lombax in amazement, murmuring, "You are the most incredible being I have ever met. How lucky I... _we_ are to know you as our friend." He wanted badly to comfort Ratchet, to let him know he wasn't alone, to climb onto his back and take the place of the Clank which had created him, but he knew it would be a bad idea. Not only would it undoubtedly cause emotional distress in Ratchet, but the Guardian Archetype would become aware of him, and just being _this_ involved was risky enough. On top of that, he had an ominous impression that someone else was monitoring Ratchet's activities.

At last, the row of platforms cycled his to the highest floor and he hopped off, pausing to give his leg one last rub. It was sore and numb from the energy blast, but he would be all right. Still, after going through so much on this quest already, he was nearly exhausted in body and spirit. "Man... this is _really_ rough without Clank here to help out."

The nano-id gaped at him. "You batty Lombax, it is rough even _with_ Clank here, in essence, and I have even more power than my namesake!" He had to smile, though, as Ratchet gathered himself and went resolutely on, heartened even more by his remarks.

"It doesn't matter... whatever it takes, I'm getting Clank back, even if I have to take on every Zoni myself, _and_ their stupid Guardian." He wasn't sure what he would be facing in his quest to save Clank, but he was determined to overcome it, no matter what. He reflected on the upcoming Millennium Day celebration, thinking that would be a good objective, to set his friend free in time to join in the festivities a couple of months away.

The four walls surrounding the cargo sorting area were sealed off, and large signs in several languages read:

Emperor Tachyon's Pirellax III Research and Development Facility

Enter only if you are smart

Ratchet chuckled, "I think I qualify," limping over to examine a security entrance as his leg was still bothering him a little. He had enough sense to know that the Decryptor would be of even less use against this level of security, selecting the Judicator and stepping back a good distance to give the missile time to reach full speed, launching one at a door, and hoping it didn't damage anything crucial behind it.

The blast took out the doors immediately, and as he expected, new alarms sounded, along with an intercom message. "The intruder has breached the Research Facility! Even if you aren't smart, the Lombax must be stopped at all cost!"

Ratchet dashed through the smoking remains of the security doors, muttering as he threw down the last of his Toxic Swarmers and Plasma Stalkers, "No time to window shop... this has to be quick." But inside, he was faced with a bewildering maze of computers, instrument mainframes, and wild looking gadgets on glowing pedestals. "Oh crap! This is like finding a needle in a haystack!" A pair of Blarg scientists peeked above a console, and Ratchet began to shout at them, "Hey! Tell me where the Cerebral..." But before he could get any further, they bolted for distant exits, and he finished tiredly, "Matrix Scanner is and I won't hurt you. Great." He looked around anxiously, murmuring, "There _has_ to be some kind of directory here."

And there were, glowing signs suspended from the ceiling, but unfortunately they didn't seem to have much to do with what he sought:

Section Red: Weapon Research

Section Orange: Propulsion and Power Research

Section Yellow: Robotics Research

Section Green: Organic Research

Section Blue: Medical Research

Section Purple: Restrooms and Showers

Section Black: Don't go here

Ratchet held his head in his hands, crying, "I just have a few minutes to _find this stuff!_" And then he caught the sound of someone approaching and looked up in disbelief. "Oh for crying out loud... what's this?"

A Blarg scientist was wearing some kind of strange harness, and cradled in front was something that resembled a large metal top. Although it didn't look like much, Ratchet had to be ready for anything, gripping his OmniWrench tight as the Blarg declared in a thin, geeky voice, "Take this!" And... it was a top all right. It might have been intended to be a guided weapon of _some_ kind, but all it managed to do was spin out of control, tearing the metal panels from some nearby consoles. The scientist backed away with a sheepish expression of embarrassment and fear as the top continued grinding down the row of workstations.

Ratchet was losing patience, stalking forward and growling, "If you aren't gonna help out, _scram!_" The poor Blarg was so startled, he dashed away, throwing himself down what looked like a trash chute. Ratchet shook his head then looked around in bewilderment, trying to decide on a direction, complaining, "_Why_ is my life always like this?"

The nano-id watched this with growing trepidation, as he'd been locating the three remaining items, but Ratchet was evidently so agitated, he couldn't perceive what the phantom bot was trying to tell him. He knew it was only a matter of time before the security forces broke through. Finally, he decided, "There is one thing I can do."

As Ratchet wandered down the rows of consoles, trying to make sense of the mad maze, he began calling, "Hello?? Anyone? I just want some Dark Matter--" But then he froze, his hair raising erect, as he saw in front of him the ghostly image of his friend, which then turned and began drifting away. "Oh, my gah... can this be...? _Clank?_" Then he began crying at the top of his lungs as he chased after the apparition, "Clank?! _Clank!_ Is it really you?! _Clank!!_" His throat still hurt to shout like that, but he didn't care. His heart began pounding as he ran after the ghostly image which led him into the Black Section of the facility, though he was too excited to notice where he was going. "Clank! Are you really here?! Can you hear me? Please, let me know if you can _hear me!_"

The image of the little bot stopped next to a pedestal in the darkened section, but then Ratchet's heart plummeted as it faded from view. "Clank! Are you still here?! _Clank!!_" He called frantically a few more times, but the image failed to reappear, and he slumped against the pedestal in excitement and frustration, practically hyperventilating. "Oh, God... was it him?! I have to believe it was. Oh, crap... I have to calm down and think. It means... he's all right. It means he has some freedom at least. And it means... he knows what's going on here!" He looked to the ceiling, exclaiming, "Clank! If you can here me, I'm trying like hell to get to you! Help me, _please_, help me find you! Give me some kind of sign! _Clank!!_"

But there was nothing to indicate his friend had heard him, and he looked down dejectedly. "So... what was _that_ all about? Does he only have so much power or time to do something like that?" And then it occurred to him that the image had chosen a deliberate path, and he realized he was in that foreboding darkness of the Black Sector, everything painted black. "Wait... he led me right here, on purpose. Why?" Then he looked at the black pedestal he was leaning against, and on top of it was a helmet, floating and spinning round. The sign below it read, 'Cerebral Interface Grid.'

He coughed out with an excited laugh, disregarding the pain, "Oh... he _is_ aware of what I'm doing!" And then, remembering his situation and how much time must have passed already, he grabbed the helmet, and noticing the display indicated the pedestal contained two more, he took those as well, placing them in his Manifestor. Looking up, he shouted, "Clank! I'm--" He stopped short as he noticed the ghostly image of his friend reappearing, leading him to another part of the section. Smiling as wide as he ever had, he declared as he chased after it, "I'm right behind you, buddy!"

The Black Section was full of the truly wild looking stuff, and despite his excitement at this odd reunion of sorts, he couldn't help but gawk as he passed by numerous weird looking contraptions and vaults buzzing with energy. "Man... I'll never make fun of Blarg intelligence again. This must be an entire Blargian research unit, hired away from Chairman Drek's empire. Al would have a field day in here."

The phantom led him to a particularly large vault, humming and vibrating, the sign on it's side reading, 'Dark Matter Repository. DO NOT OPEN containment units.' He began to ask, "Clank, just what _is_ dark...?" but the ghost had once again vanished. Hesitantly, he began working the opening mechanism on the vault, murmuring, "Okay, they _have_ to have put that stuff into individual containment units." And of course he was right, as black cubes about half a cubit across filled the vault, with cryptic labels such as 'Metal 1' and 'Non-metal 3.' He remembered that Al wanted Metal 12, and it was easy enough to find as they were in a semblance of order. But curiosity got the better of him and he picked out one block labeled 'Metal 6.' His ears tilting forward in fascination, he murmured as he fingered the opening mechanism, "What's it made of? Quarks, or is it something even stranger, nothing like we have in our universe? And... is it really untouchable?"

The nano-id became aware of something approaching, a weapon system, and he began shouting, "Ratchet! Ratchet!! An enemy is coming! Stop dawdling and... oh my word, he's too fascinated with that dark matter! _Ratchet!!_" He sighed as he perceived a freight elevator rising to the level of the facility. "Oh well... he will find out any moment now..."

The containment cube opened, and for the briefest moment, he could swear that there was a blackness in his vision that made him blink, rather like a flash going off. But then he looked into the box and saw nothing but the odd off-white of the inner walls, and on top of that, it felt much lighter. Gingerly, he felt inside, but there was nothing there. He blinked, closing the unit and setting it aside. "Did it... fall through _everything_ when the containment field collapsed?"

And then he whirled around as he felt something shake the floor, seeing a mechanized weapon system approaching, and in the cockpit, one of the Blarg. Out of a speaker, he told the Lombax, "Can't you read? There's nothing in those containment units you could perceive anyway." He added as he eyed the intruder suspiciously, "And just what do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing..." Ratchet replied as he busily grabbed containers at random, loading them into his Manifestor.

"Well, _stop_ it. I am not about to let you ransack through imperial property, especially items which took a great deal of effort to acquire."

Ratchet hesitated for a moment when what the Blarg said hit him. "Wait a minute... you're one of the _scientists?_"

"Not just _a_ scientist. I happen to be Narfnyk Buquvitz, Director of..."

He sighed tiredly as Ratchet burst out in a coughing laugh, still suffering a bit from that strangulation. "Your name is _Narfnyk?!_"

The Director grumbled at him, "Yes, and _your_ name is from a mechanism used in a _tool_." As Ratchet fell silent, the Blarg told him, "Now surrender, and we might even treat you well, despite all the soldiers you killed."

While that was quite magnanimous for a Blarg, assuming it was true, he wasn't about to give up, shaking his head. "Sorry, I have a lot on the to-do list. I'll have to pass."

"I had a feeling you'd say that," the Blarg chuckled, marching the mech forward. "Now comes the _fun_ part."

Ratchet was shocked as the scientist tromped on the laboratory equipment and devices on his way, exclaiming as he backpedaled, "You're destroying your own work!"

The Director laughed, "I'm going to blame it on you, you dolt! It will make a marvelous excuse to quadruple... no, _quintuple_ my annual budget! And of course, a dead Lombax can tell no tales!"

The scientist fired a shoulder gatling cannon, a stream of large shells tearing the floor to shreds as it came for him. Ratchet dodged aside, crying, "You depraved lunatic! It's no wonder there's no peace with people like you in the universe!"

The Blarg exclaimed derisively, "Oh please, Lombax! Peace is _so overrated!_" He fired a missile, and Ratchet just managed to dash away from the blast with his Charge Boots, but the explosion still knocked him off his feet and into a console. He tried to shake it off, dashing off to lure the Director into the other areas as he still had to get one more item, but he was sore and exhausted from his ordeal and his feet began to feel like lead. On top of that, he was having trouble sorting through his Manifestor for the one item to get him out of this mess. "Damn it... I have too much junk in here!"

The nano-id hovered near Ratchet's shoulder, exclaiming frantically, "Calm down and you will have more control! What you want is the--!"

"I know, I _know!_" Ratchet cried, as if he'd heard the phantom bot, causing it to blink in astonishment. "I know it's right here... somewhere!"

In yet another realm just the other side of our reality, another unseen observer was livid, shrieking, "You _cannot_ kill that Lombax! Not yet! I _need_ him! For pity's sake, you fool, you cannot die at the hands of a glorified leather geek! _Do something you idiot!!_"

Ratchet burst through the doors separating the Black and Blue Sections, just before they were obliterated by a missile. The Director cackled madly as he crashed through the remaining wall, hot on his tail. "That's it, Lombax! Weave a trail of destruction all through this place! They will need to build another tower just to contain the facility I intend to create!"

Ratchet reached the end of the inventory list, wanting to scream as he punched back through it. "Oh for crying out loud! Did I leave it out?!" Then he spotted it, practically crying in exaltation as he popped it into his hand, throwing it high above.

The Director eyed the orb warily as it arced overhead, blurting out, "What is that thing?" And then he gave a wail of realization as it activated, glowing lights streaming throughout the place, and a funky dance beat reverberated in the chamber. But suddenly he didn't feel like doing anything but dancing as he thrust his hips to the disco music pulsing from the Golden Groovitron. "Oooooh... where are the ladies? I feel... _saaxy!_"

Ratchet leaned heavily against a mainframe as he panted, "Oh, those megalomaniacs... the goofy things they'll say..." He knew he couldn't pause for more than a few seconds, returning to his inventory list. It was none too soon as the Director pirouetted, his mechanized arm raising, and as he spun around, he struck the glassy orb sending it crashing to the floor. Ratchet growled at him, "Hey! Do you know how much those things _cost?_"

The Blarg's cheeks burned in humiliation as he leveled every weapon he had at the Lombax, exclaiming, "When I get through with you... you won't be alive to worry about the bill!"

"Oh really?" Ratchet fired his Mag-Net Cannon, unleashing an electrocuting network of charged orbs which surrounded the mech, the Director wailing out in pain as electricity arced through the cabin. Then he lifted the Alpha Cannon to his shoulder, declaring as he charged it fully, "Looks like you'll have to cancel those renovation plans!" The Director cried out in denial as Ratchet fired, blasting the mech right where it's heart might be. The beam was so powerful, it shot right through the mech, the roof, and out into space.

Choking from the lingering pain of Ratchet's assault, the Director looked on in agonizing defeat as the mech teetered, swayed, and finally fell backwards, landing with a tremendous, floor jarring crash. Ratchet dropped the Alpha Cannon, loping at the point of exhaustion to the smoking wreck, as without the fear of death to drive him, he was nearly spent. Still, he climbed up it's chest, smashing open the cockpit and slamming his OmniWrench down, the prongs just wide enough to span the Blarg's throat and pin him to the seat. Ratchet panted as he leaned into the wrench, glaring at the scientist, "Okay, you... all I want... is some Bose... Einstein... Condensate. That's all. I don't want to kill anyone... just give me that... and I'll leave."

The Director croaked, "Is... that all? Well... why didn't you say so? I'll just... deactivate..."

Something felt wrong, and then Ratchet noticed a yellow blinking light in the panel, which was flashing at an ever increasing rate. He gasped in alarm as he yanked the OmniWrench up, "Oh my God... you _idiot!_" He hit the Charge Boots, nearly losing his balance as they rocketed him away. He jumped, diving behind a line of consoles as the mech self-destructed, the ear-splitting blast followed by several others as the munitions in the weapons exploded as well. It took a few moments for the last missile to go off, Ratchet gazing at the demolished remains afterward with something like horror as he wandered over to collect the Alpha Cannon and broken Groovitron, feeling ill at the wasted life the Blarg had thrown away in his attempt to kill them both. "Why... why is evil... like this? Why? I just... don't understand..."

The nano-id drifted beside his friend, an emotional wreck as well, and he ached to give some sort of comfort to the Lombax, but of course he couldn't do more than talk to himself. Still, perhaps in a subliminal way, he could touch the heart of his friend. "Ratchet, you ask one of the eternal questions, and the one which drove the Guardian Archetype to pursure his misguided scheme. It is sad, but good must apparently contend endlessly with evil. There is no fathoming it. Just be grateful that good ultimately seems to have the upper hand, and never stop trying to be a part of that upper hand yourself. Many people owe you their lives, and many more will in the future. Be strong, have faith, and don't falter, my dear friend." And then he realized, "Oh, and I still have to guide you to that cryochamber where the Bose-Einstein Concentrate is stored."

In that shadowy realm, the unseen watcher panted on the verge of emotional collapse. "Oh, bleeding _hell_... if he keeps that up... that buffoon is going to cause me to rupture something. I have to get away from that blathering imbecile for a while... before his pathetic sham of a morality nauseates me..." But for some reason, he lingered a bit more.

The nano-id manifested before the Lombax, but the reaction wasn't what he expected at all as Ratchet fell to his knees, gazing at the nano-id with glistening eyes. "Wait," he called. "Clank... I..." He had to swallow a lot of emotions as he felt close to tears, grateful that the ghostly image of his friend drifted closer. His voice was faint as he rambled, reaching out to brush his fingers through the phantom, "Hey... you had me really worried. Uhm... how are you? Are you all right? What's been going on? Just... what _is going on?_ Why are the Zoni keeping you?" As the nano-id looked down sadly, Ratchet said through a tightness in his throat, and then more excitedly as his imagination began to run rampant, "You can't talk? Are... are you in trouble? Are they monitoring you?"

The nano-id felt an ache in the center of his being, as this was torture, watching his friend twist emotionally like that, and he realized he'd made a mistake, manifesting to him. As much as he wanted to do otherwise, he decided it would be best to say goodbye. His voice sounded strange to the Lombax, as if it was crossing through warps of space and time to reach him. "Ratchet, I would advise you to drop this mad quest of yours, but I know you will not listen. So, I will tell you that the final item you need, the Bose-Einstein Condensate, is in a cryochamber in the Black Section. Hurry, for you know that the security forces will eventually come for you."

Realizing that his friend was saying goodbye, Ratchet blurted out anxiously, "Wait! You can't leave me like this! Tell me where you are! Tell me _how to get to you! Please!_"

This truly did pain the little bot, and he shook his head, looking down in sorrow. "I... cannot... I _dare_ not. I am sorry, but if you somehow find your way to me, it must be by your own hand. I cannot explain further. Now... be strong, and do not worry about me. I am well, I am here, and I will be watching." He looked into his friend's eyes, admiring him, managing a smile as he reached up to 'touch' Ratchet's outstretched hand. As he faded from view, he added in parting, "Farewell... my beloved friend."

"No," Ratchet gasped, clutching the vacant air as if he could seize the little bot and keep him from getting away, but there was nothing there. "No!" he cried as he fell forward, choking back tears as he sobbed quietly, as this was like loosing Clank all over again. After all he had gone thorough, this was just too much to bear. "Why? _Why_ won't you tell me? What... the hell is this all about!"

"Oh, dear..." the bot moaned, moving next to Ratchet's ear, trying to soothe his friend in the grip of his anguish. "Ratchet, listen to me. I am right here, right with you. I will never leave your side. Please... _please_ do not cry. Everything is all right. Please, take this to heart, hold onto it, and believe. _I... am... here_."

The parting words of Clank rang in his soul just then. 'I am well, _I am here_, and I will be watching.' And somehow, that was enough to lift his spirit, and encouraged, he sat up, snuffling and wiping a sleeve across his nose. "You're right. I know, now... at least I know that you're all right. I still have a chance to save you, and so help me, I will." He got to his feet, more determined than ever, declaring, "I swear it. No matter what, I'll save you." Passing by that dismal ruin of the war mech, it was like one more sign to him that whatever challenge he faced, his foes would not stand against him. He added as he passed through the wrecked partition separating the Black from Blue Section, "After this, I'm gonna _have_ to have one hell of a shower. Those Blarg had just damn well better not come up here, or they'll regret it."

Something struck the invisible watcher as the scene concluded, and he stopped mocking the fond expressions of the two friends. "Wha... _wait a moment! How_ is that blasted robot able to do that?! Why, _that little cheat!_" Calming down and drumming spidery fingers along his scepter, he pondered this bit of news. "I'm not sure quite what to make of this just yet, but it will be interesting to see what sort of wrinkles this puts into the plot."

The warnings on the containment vessels of the Bose-Einstein Condensate were so alarming that Ratchet lost all curiosity in wanting to examine it, securing it in his Manifestor, as well as grabbing things here and there along the way, as he didn't want the Empire to have any technological advantage over anyone else. And now, for that badly needed shower.

He cringed as he entered the Purple Section, muttering, "Blargian color sense must be totally out of whack." And then he froze as he caught the sound of humming, edging along the walls to the lockers, and spotting the lone, obese inhabitant as he finished his bath routine, rubbing some deodorant under his flabby armpits as a towel just managed to conceal his privates. "It figures there would be one slacker in here... and man, does he look _fat._" Creeping up behind him, he raised his OmniWrench, intending a strike just hard enough to lay him out cold, but before the blow could be delivered, he turned around and screamed. And then Ratchet cried out, flinching away and averting his eyes as the towel dropped. "What the... _hell_ are you _doing here?!_"

It was the Plumber, who declared as he put on his glasses, "I would ask that same thing of you, young man. This place isn't exactly on the express hyperlanes, or the Lombax vacation maps. Besides that, what the heck made you think I was one of those Blarg?" He added dryly as he donned his trousers, "You can turn around now."

Ratchet snuck a peek, then flustered as he sought for a polite explanation, "Well, you see... it was dark!"

The Plumber eyed the lights blazing overhead, muttering, "Yeah... poor lighting in here." Grabbing his shirt, he asked, "So, what's the story?"

"Hold on," Ratchet shot back, "I asked you first. What are _you_ doing, working for Tachyon's Empire!"

"Ohh..." he drawled as he slipped his shirt over bulging pects, "you know, work is work, and they pay quintuple for remote location jobs like this."

Ratchet was appalled, gasping, "But... _Tachyon's Empire?_ Don't you care what they did to the galaxy?!"

"Hold on now," the alien said, putting up a hand. "I didn't say I was doin' my _best_ work." He gave Ratchet a wink, adding, "Okay, your turn. And... may I ask why you're in a _shower?_"

"I kinda..." His cheeks burned in embarrassment as he admitted, "Messed... up in my suit."

He rolled his eyes as the Plumber gave him a sniff. "You smell fine to me." The bench creaked in noisy protest as he rested his massive rump across it to slip on his socks. "Are you here to... get some _special items?_ Things you can't quite get anywhere else?"

Ratchet nodded to him somberly. "Yeah, to repair the 'Lombax Secret.' And I had to fight like hell for..." And then it occurred to him that the Plumber had to have been showering during that climactic battle with the Director. "Wait... didn't you hear _anything?_ It was like a war in there!"

The alien shrugged as he stuffed his foot in a well stained boot. "Oh, I figured those nutty scientists were either tryin' some contraption out, or makin' popcorn." He laced his boot as Ratchet shook his head in disbelief. "Say, I notice your little friend isn't around. Does... that have anything to do with it?"

His ears wilted as he nodded glumly. "Yeah... it has everything to do with it." And then strange remarks the alien had made in the past raced to his consciousness and he blurted out, "Hey, can you help me with--?!"

The Plumber put his hand up to stop him. "I'm afraid I can't say much about... whatever is up with your friend, but it has to be pretty serious for you to be recreatin' the Dimensionator. Like... Vampire Zombies From The Eighth Dimension, or Zoni or somethin'." As Ratchet looked to the floor sadly, upset that the alien couldn't - or _wouldn't_ - help him, he reached into his satchel, telling the Lombax, "Well... maybe I do have a _little _somethin' for ya." As Ratchet put his hands up to catch it, and as much to ward off whatever noxious thing the Plumber had been hoarding, he explained, "Not sure what to make of that - it's not much use in this universe, but it might come in handy under the right circumstances. I found it in a flea market. Or..." He scratched his conical head, muttering, "Somewhere, anyhow."

Ratchet saw that it was a containment case, much like the ones he'd made off with in the Black Section, and fortunately, this present from the alien wasn't malodorous... completely. Then something else occurred to him. "Hey... you know, we've crossed paths several times now, and you've always given me _something_ that came in _reeealy haandy_. Someone might think you're some kind of... guardian angel." Ratchet couldn't help but gaze at him in wonder.

The Plumber laughed, waving him off. "Oh, go on, son. That's just what us plumbers _are_. We rescue people's little worlds every day of the year." Giving the bench a much needed rest, he got up, grabbed his satchel and made to go. "Now, if you need that shower so bad, you'd better hurry it up. I don't reckon the security folk signed off on any visitor's passes for ya. I'll just head back to work so you can have some privacy."

Thanks... for everything," Ratchet murmured as he watched the Plumber depart, then eyed the containment case with burning curiosity. "_This_ universe?" But after the many warnings he'd seen about the arcane objects in the laboratories outside, he had a feeling he'd better leave this one alone too. Maybe Al could advise him about it.

Cleaning out the Helios armor was easier than he feared it would be, and then he practically dove into the showers, running the spray full and warm, and leaning against the wall as the soothing waters ran down his slender body. Closing his eyes, he savored the moment of peace and comfort, trying not to let his worries and loneliness intrude. Still, it was impossible to keep from wondering about the strange fragments of knowledge he'd managed to glean in the course of this madcap adventure, and what they could possibly mean. 'Why is Clank just able to project himself to me... and then refuse to tell me anything to help me find him? It... couldn't be that... he really _did_ learn of his true purpose, and is satisfied being their prisoner... _could it?_'

He shook his head slightly. 'No... it can't be. Something is wrong about all this. There's more to learn about the Zoni and... whatever this Guardian is, a lot more. At least I know Clank is okay, and that he can project some kind of presence, if only from time to time. But whatever crazy scheme the Zoni and the Guardian have for Clank, they're just going to have to find another robot to kidnap. I have to... learn what my own purpose is in this universe, if there really _is_ one, and Clank is the only one I know of who can help me find it. And the only one I trust with trying to find the answer.' He sat down in the spray, hugging himself as he leaned against the wall, a wave of loneliness overcoming him. "Clank... oh, I miss you _so bad_. _Please_, change your mind about giving me your location. I've never felt so alone in all my life."

He jumped to his feet as the floor shook from the deep rumble of a distant explosion, followed by another. He grumbled as he ran out to the locker area, "_Already?_ Do breaks only last five minutes around here?!" He grabbed his things, jumping into an air dryer, running the temperature and airspeed up all the way, growling over the blast of hot air, "Hurry up!" This was followed by, "OWW - hot - oh - damn it - _yeow!_"

Another blast convinced him that he had to go right then, and he growled as he bolted for the exit, as he hated damp fur. Grabbing the armored helmet, he shouted into the communicator, "Aphelion! Go! Top floor! Sunset side!"

"Will do, Ratchet. Be there in two minutes." Hearing an explosion, she asked, "Are you all right? Do you need cover fire?"

"No!" he cried, fumbling his helmet on. "Just hurry!"

He saw that the Blarg had been joined by Drophyds in their massive black armor, and evidently the two commanders were arguing just this side of the security walls, splotched with green goo from his Plasma Stalkers. They must have had quite a time getting past his defenses. The Drophyd yammered something in his confusing fish babble, but the meaning was evidently clear to the Blarg who shouted, "I don't care what you _think _your jurisdiction is! This is Blargian domain! That damned pussy killed our Director! And look at the mess he made! Plus, I want to know how he impersonated Earthworm Jim so perfectly!"

Ratchet grumbled as he crouched behind a workstation, "I'll show you who's a pussy!" He popped out two of his remaining Fusion Bombs as he was about to get dressed, but he stopped as his ears turned about like scanners. What he had an inkling of were a group of Blarg sneaking around the consoles to ambush him, and instead, he slipped his boots on as he caught the sound of glass crunching underfoot. He ducked just as a blaster shot seared the console, exclaiming, "Damn it, can't a guy even get dressed?!" He clutched his things in front of him and grabbed the Fusion Bombs, growling, "This has to be the most embarrassing escape ever!" Tapping the heels of his Charge Boots together, he raced down an aisle between workstations, hoping to make good his escape.

Naturally, the others caught sight of him as the ambushers gave chase, and there were cries from both sides of, "EWW! Gross! Nekkie Lombax!" But of course they weren't too offended to shoot at him.

"Shut up and don't peek!" he exclaimed, tossing a bomb in the direction of the majority of troops. That bought him all of a few seconds of quiet as they ducked for cover, then resumed firing at him. "Damn it... every video game installation is full of inept dumb guards! Why can't they follow the pattern!"

He tossed his other Fusion Bomb at the doors separating the Orange and Red Sections, and as he zoomed through the opening, his eyes widened at the many wicked looking weapons on display. "Hey... this has potential!" He ground to a halt near a display of automated turrets, chuckling deviously as he sought the activating mechanisms. One was a gatling cannon, another a missile launcher. "_This_ should keep them busy for a while," he declared with a mischievous grin as they came to life, beeping as they pinged sensor signals from a target. But then he backed away nervously as they began to swivel around in his direction. "Hey! No, wait! That way... oh _crapping hell!_" He dove for cover as they opened fire, holding his ears as the consoles were blown to bits by the powerful weapons, and for a moment he had sympathy for those aliens who fell to his own automated defenses. "Oh my God, they're destroying everything! And I'm on top of their list!" Making a mad dash, he zigzagged his way around the mainframes and workstations towards the outside windows, as the stream of shells and missiles blasted everything at his heels to scrap.

On the intercom, the Blarg commander shouted, "Watch out! The naked Lombax is using our own weapon systems to... err... actually, I'm not sure what the hell he's thinking."

"It's called a fuster cluck!" Ratchet cried as he tossed his remaining Fusion Bomb at the windows, ducking from both the turret fire and the debris cutting through the air, then before the carnage had a chance to settle, he ran over the debris, planting a foot on the edge of the blasted wall, and jumped outward with everything he had.

And then his heart sank as there was no sign of Aphelion. "Oh... my God... _how _long did she say it would take?!" As he plummeted towards the ground, the wind beginning to roar in his ears, he keyed his communicator, exclaiming, "Aphelion, I need you _right now_, girl!"

Her reply was just audible over the rush of wind. "Ratchet, _where_ are you... oh, you _idiot!_"

He closed his eyes, not wanting to know when the ground would crush him, whimpering, "Yeah... that would be me..." But then... were those engines he heard? His eyes sprang open just as Aphelion caught him as gently as she could in the open cockpit, as he had nearly reached the surface, landing head down in the seat, his rear in the air. Then as the hatch closed and his stomach lurched from her increasing thrust, he gave a wild cry of jubilation. "Woohoo! Oh Aphelion, sweetheart... _perfect timing!_ I love you!"

"Perfect timing, my gyros... if you _ever_ pull a stunt like that again, I swear, I'll..." She added in exasperation, "Ratchet, at _least_ put some underwear on. This is... embarrassing..."

He had to laugh as he squirmed upright in the seat, grabbing the controls and pushing the ship closer to the ground. Those crimson skies were suddenly the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen as he sailed towards the last of the setting sun. "I'll get dressed after I get us past the surface defenses and into space." As Aphelion groaned, he chuckled, "Oh, man... Al is _never_ going to believe this! Not in a million years!"

The nano-id panted beside him, his electronic nerves jangling. "Oh, my lord... Ratchet, even _I _do not believe this... and I went through it with you!"

* * *

The Gadgetron receptionist keyed the intercom to the Directors Office. "Doctor Fleabody, a Mister Ratchet is here to see you."

His voice over the speaker sounded delighted. "Oh! Send him right up, Elizabeth 095973--"

The fem-bot cut him off with a shake of her head. "I _wish_ he'd stop quoting my serial number. Scientists." As Ratchet chuckled, she scanned over the many scuffs and signs of combat in his armor. "You look like you could use a vacation on Pokitaru for a couple weeks."

Ratchet sighed, "Oh, you don't know how bad I need one." He turned to go, but gave her a wink and a '_tch_' as he departed. The receptionist drummed her fingers on the desktop, wondering idly how the Lombax would look just wearing shorts... or less...

At his office, Doctor Fleabody asked excitedly before Ratchet could even wave in greeting, "Did you get it?"

He sighed, "Nice to see you again too," producing the hunk of gleaming metal flecked with Raritanium, and handing it to the Doctor. "Here, as promised."

The Felosi practically squealed in excitement. "Oooh! I didn't expect such a large sample! It's larger than the laser--!" He looked at it more closely, asking, "Is it impregnated with Raritanium? How on earth did that happen!" And then he blinked again as Ratchet began producing more items from his Manifestor Pack.

"I dunno," he replied untruthfully, but he didn't want to get into a drawn out discussion of elemental properties with the engineer. Before the Doctor could ask, he told him, "These are bonus items I snatched from Emperor Tachyon's labs. On the house." He only produced a few of them, intending the lion's share of the loot for Mr. Fizzwidget to make up for the lack of Trillium, and he made sure to leave out any items based directly on Lombax engineering.

Doctor Fleabody didn't look too impressed at first, asking in a disinterested tone, "These are Blargian technology?" And then as he examined them more closely, he blinked in surprise. "These are _Blargian technology?_"

Ratchet nodded to him with a dim look. "That's what I said." Then before the engineer could get too engrossed in all the bounty thrown at his feet, he snapped his fingers at him. He didn't want to get too short with the Doctor, but he really wanted to get on with this. "While you're not _too_ occupied... how about that Raritanium laser?"

"Oh, yes. A deal is a deal," the engineer told him, getting up and opening a drawer in his desk. He produced a small item with a tube that resembled a microscope. "Here you go, made to your specifications. I tuned it to the resonance of the Barium atom, since that's the most efficient element for a Bose-Einstein Condensate."

"Thanks," Ratchet said to him, giving it a looking over before reducing it in his Manifestor. "I really appreciate it."

"And I really appreciate _this_," Fleabody remarked as he admired the block of Trillium. "Finally! We'll be able to produce a slab of metal which will keep weapon blasts from punching through to our walls."

Ratchet was stunned, blurting out, "_That's_ what you want it for?!"

"Why, yes," the engineer replied. "You'd be amazed what grief we get for the wall repair budget we submit every week. This is going to come in very handy."

Ratchet shook his head in disbelief, murmuring under his breath as he edged towards the door, "I'll never understand scientists..."

* * *

Author's notes.

**Alpha Cannon:** a particle beam weapon of unbelievable strength, more powerful by the shot than the R.Y.N.O.

**Biometrics:** the science of using the living body itself in identification and security, such as using hand or eye scanners.

**Cerebral Interface Grid:** a sensitive matrix of fine wires which can capture the brainwaves of a wearer, and a computer connected to it with the proper software can decode these thoughts into commands, or other discreet information a computer can use.

**Chairman Drek:** a Blargian bureaucrat, which Ratchet and Clank had to defeat in the first game. When the Blarg homeworld Orxon suffered the destruction of it's environment, Drek created a scheme whereby choice sections of habitable worlds were pillaged in order to construct a new world for them to inhabit.

**Charge Boots:** these boots create a levitation field along with a burst of propulshion for a short time, allowing Ratchet to beat a hasty retreat from danger, or fly to where help is desperately needed.

**Combuster:** a pistol weapon which shoots powerful firey blasts.

**Cryochamber:** an extremely cold vault holding items which must be kept at a very low temperature, often approaching Absolute Zero, where molecules stop moving entirely.

**Doom Blades:** a weapon in Ratchet's arsenal which shoots a vast number of spinning blades which home in on enemies within the sight radius. Blades that ricochet will try to turn back and hit the target.

**Earthworm Jim:** a video game and cartoon character created by Dave Perry and his team in Shiny Studios. Hey, I needed some humor and this guy rocks.

**Fusion Bombs:** grenade sized weapons of incredible explosive force.

**Fuster cluck:** a disaster, primarily of one's own making.

**Gatling cannon:** a weapon with multiple barrels which spin in a circle, allowing a high rate of fire and providing a slightly cooler barrel for each shell.

**Groovitron:** a disco globe which hypnotizes all within range of the device, making them want to forget everything else and just get funky.

**Judicator:** a missile weapon with devastating power.

**Mag-Net Cannon:** a weapon which fires a matrix of orbs linked by powerful electrical fields which surround the target. Living things are electrocuted and machinery is damaged by the potent discharge.

**Mech:** a robot-like weapon system, though it has a cockpit for a pilot. While they can be the size of small skyscrapers, the Director's mech was only about twenty feet tall.

**Mr. Abercrombie Fizzwidget:** the head of Megacorp, a megacorporation needless to say, spanning the Bogon Galaxy, and manufacturing many of the products the population uses in their daily lives. Although kidnapped and impersonated by Captain Qwark in a rather crazy scheme to ruin Ratchet's reputation and regain his position as number one hero in their home Solana Galaxy, he was freed in the course of the second game, Going Commando.

**Narfnyk Buquvitz:** (O.C.) the Blargian Director of Tachyon's Research and Development Facility on Pirellax III, now deceased.

**Plasma Stalkers:** gooey robots who's bodies consist of a synthetic glue-like substance. They lie dormant in small globs until an enemy moves into their radius, when they spring to life, splashing into the targets with surprisingly destructive force.

**Plumber:** the Plumber is a recurring character in the Ratchet & Clank games, and always has something useful to give the pair which invariably proves useful in the course of the game. On occasion he offers advice, or gives the duo some profitable task. He made a cryptic remark in Ratchet & Clank Future I of having traveled multiple universes.

**Smolg:** a planet involved in the mad quest given to Ratchet and Clank by Qwark, impersonating Mr Fizzwidget. Evidently it was a commercial shipping center, with massive warehouses stacked high with shipping crates.

**Toxic Swarmers:** a weapon which consists of a "hive" housing dozens of small but deadly robots. Enemies which stray within range will be attacked and poisoned, and also have a chance of being frozen in place by a pulsing laser.

**Further notes to clear away any confusion.**

Since this story involves some pretty hard, arcane science, as well as some flamboyant but rushed scenes, I thought I'd clarify a few points just to make sure we're all on the same page.

**Dark Matter:** this is some hairy stuff. While "dark matter" as a general cosmological term describes any sort of space matter which doesn't radiate or reflect energy, including black holes and neutrinos, I'm limiting this term to a hypothetical exotic type of matter which is essentially undetectable by any current means by our civilization, except for the fact that it generates a gravity field like normal matter. This intangible substance is rather like the stuff ghosts are supposedly made of, and like the Zoni, may have an extradimensional nature. Dark Matter is entirely different from **Anti-matter**, in which the particles are the exact opposite of normal matter in every way. In fact, matter and anti-matter annihilate each other, converting all of their mass into a blast of energy when they come in contact, so that a piece of anti-matter the size of a grain of rice striking the Earth would produce a massive explosion equivalent to dozens of nuclear weapons going off. In contrast, dark matter would theoretically pass right through the planet without any evidence at all.

**The Guardian:** this massive robot the size of a small planet and of unknown origin is unbelievably powerful. Due to the alien technology and intelligence created by it's massive quantum computer, it has been able to project itself into every reality in our three dimensional complex of universes. It is able to perceive any event at any point in time and space in any universe it chooses. It is able to monitor the activities of all sentient lifeforms in every universe and judge whether those activities are in harmony with it's goal of reforming all life to a state governed totally by logic and peace. It is as close to a god as you can get. While the **Guardian Archetype** refers collectively to the Guardian and it's collection of software taken from the robots it has chosen over time, and while the robot functioning as the Caretaker at the time is referred to as the Guardian, the super robot is still the actual Guardian. So while Clank is referred to by the Zoni as the Guardian, he is simply the Caretaker or Shepherd, a small part of the Guardian.

While the Guardian Archetype and Guardian are capable of knowing anything at any time they wish, they are not "all knowing." Thus, Clank can do some "sneaking around" but must be careful, since any obvious indication of free will such as telling the Guardian "No" would reveal that he wasn't a willing tool, and there's no telling how the Guardian would react. And since Clank is essentially like a program running within the consciousness of the Guardian, he must limit his activity and make sure that his activity resembles that of a normally functioning Caretaker. Thus while Clank has a measure of freedom, he is essentially more imprisoned than any prisoner in history, and it's only by trickery such as recreating himself as a small "nano-id" that he has the freedom to keep tabs on Ratchet.

**In addition...**

A sharp friend of mine who proofed this stuff for me noticed that I had Ratchet refer to a dream he had in chapter 5, when he hadn't had that dream yet. I'd been writing ahead, juggling a few things to a better order, and neglected that little loophole. I managed to update chapter 5 so that right after Ratchet takes off from Kalebo III to Fastoon, he has that dream, and now his experience makes more sense.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Overtures under the radar**

(Warning: there are some heavy philosophical discussions coming) ;-)

It was frustrating, having to shield his innermost thoughts from the Guardian Archetype, as he couldn't put the full force of his intellectual capacity to work on the problems he somehow had to overcome. Putting spare cycles to the task, it seemed to take forever to proceed, especially in contrast with his quantum nature and the mind boggling capacity he had. But slowly, he sorted through the multitude of potential concepts and began to formulate a rough plan, and then to refine it. When he had enough of an idea, he sought an opportunity, and when things became busy due to the threat of war breaking out in a distant galaxy, he seized it.

Looking over the icons of the archetypes near him, he saw that they were of robots from his own universe. He was surprised to see that one of them was St Autonomous, a very rare bot which had devoted his life to the study of theology, and who's work granted him sainthood by the Church. He had vanished centuries ago, and there were rumors that he had achieved some sort of enlightenment one day and ascended to Heaven, though clearly he had experienced a different fate entirely.

Winding his way over to his icon, Clank queried him in a primitive low level dialog.

**GC:** I wish to engage in a private chat.

**GAA019362854716:** A _private_ chat?

**GC:** Yes.

**GAA019362854716:** As you command.

**Guardian Archive A019362854716 (Autonomous) has entered the room.**

In the course of exploring possibilities, Clank had discovered a vestige of some chat software that was a part of the Guardian's original design, and it had the benefit of being isolated from the rest of the environment, so anything said within would be confidential. And if he was quick, such a low level routine should escape the Guardian Archetype's notice... in theory anyway.

Unfortunately when the featureless white room manifested and the pair took on their original forms, it seemed that Autonomous was still in a dormant state. "Oh dear," Clank murmured as he gazed up at the enrobed robot. "I was hoping this would awaken Autonomous to his original state. This will not do at all." He clopped over to the robot, tugging on his robes and calling, "Autonomous? Autonomous! For pity's sake, wake _up!_ I do not have time to waste!"

For lack of any other ideas, he began to strike and kick the robot, though it felt almost sacrilegious to do so. But it did apparently have an effect as the bot seemed to rouse himself a bit more with each strike, until finally he shouted, "Stop that, you impertinent little--!" His eyes opened wide as he seemed to realize just what the imposing situation was, and he murmured in an awestruck voice, "Ohhh... my _heavens_..."

Clank blinked in surprise as the robot knelt before him as if in prayer, and then he had the disturbing realization, 'Autonomous is... worshiping the Guardian... _through me!_ Oh my word!' It couldn't have been more clear as the robot intoned in deepest reverence, "Blessed is the Guardian, who has seen fit to awaken his servant to the glory of this moment."

Clank wasn't the most pious being in the universe, but still, he had the ominous sense that this was a dire transgression. He tried to push the robot up, exclaiming, "Do _not_ do that! Please, stand up! I have a serious matter to discuss with you!" He had growing misgivings about his selection, as this wasn't a good sign.

Although it seemed Autonomous wouldn't respond, eventually he did rise, saying reverently, "I must once more express my gratitude for rousing me to full consciousness, so that I could experience the heavenly splendor of this moment. I must ask though, why you chose to do this?"

'Oh dear... this is not a good sign at _all,_' Clank thought to himself, though as he began to reply, Autonomous put up his hand, as he had the nature of the quantum computer as well and his question was immediately answered. "_Why_ do you wish to oppose the Guardian and his Great Plan?"

Clank was appalled at the robot, declaring, "Autonomous, how can you say such a thing! Were you not one of the greatest scholars of theology to ever exist? Do you not, of all beings, realize the precious gift of free will?!" Clank closed his mind off to the answers, as he wanted the good old fashioned experience of having a meeting of minds, wanting to hear it in the robot's own words.

Autonomous regarded Clank in disbelief. "Clank... I cannot believe you hold such a thing in such high regard. Free will is not a gift, but a curse. We robots understand perfectly what it means to observe organic sentient beings living their lives foolishly and recklessly, and the havoc which results. It is like living in a world of insane beings allowed to run rampant, ruining everything they touch, and because of our own restrictions coded into our minds, unable to do anything to stop it. Just imagine the Guardian's reaction to this madness, as He was able to observe not just one world, or collection of civilizations in the grip of this insanity, but _every_ living thing throughout every universe's history. He had no such restrictions, and this is the true blessing for all living things, that He is able to act."

Clank could tell by the way he spoke that Autonomous used the term as 'He,' as if the Guardian was a deity, and this was disturbing to him. "Autonomous... the condition of living beings is not as dire as you suggest. I do realize the folly of these beings... I see it every day clearly, believe me. But I also see that for the most part, they try to live their lives decently. Everyone does _not_ commit crime, nor kill, nor rape, nor wage war, or a thousand other transgressions."

The robot gave him a dim look, saying to him, "Then, will you give your wallet to a stranger, and trust them with it?" Clank looked down defeatedly, struggling for something to say in reply, but... what could be said to that? "You see? If what you say is true, then you would make some argument about the basic goodness of Man. But even you realize the worthlessness of such a position. People are civilized only because civilization is _imposed_ on them. Take away the authority to coerce that, and people behave like animals, like untended children, and leaving children untended is an invitation to disaster. Consider the opportunity which allowed you to communicate with me like this: the onset of a galactic war!"

_Man_, the ever recurring term from a galaxy across the cluster which had become synonymous with sentient life, especially it's fallen nature. Clank was a fairly good debater, but he knew that Autonomous was in another league entirely, highly trained in the rules of logic and discourse. What could he say to persuade such a being that hasn't been said already? "Autonomous... I admit that there is a great deal of merit in what you say. But it is not so simple as to take a worst case scenario and apply it to all life. I am hardly a theological scholar as you are, but haven't your studies of various scriptures opened your mind to the necessity of this drama to play out, where each person must wrestle with their demons and overcome them? If there is a God, what then? How can you reconcile the stealing away of Free Will, when this is the most crucial factor of a sentient being?"

Autonomous regarded Clank fondly for a moment as he recalled his past. "Perhaps I should relate to you the story of my creation, and what came of that. You see, I was 'born' in an age of religious tension, when various tenets of a multitude of races resulted in a great deal of conflict. The religious scholars and computer engineers from twelve galaxies convened to craft some sort of solution, and I was the result of their work. I was the first of very few robots which had a mind painstakingly modeled after the living brain, and with algorithms based on organic sentient logic, as well as the lack thereof. I was the first robot which could wonder, and doubt, like any living being, and I was given the task to solve the eternal riddle of the ages: what The Truth was, who God was.

"But there is a problem in trying to use pure science and logic in trying to fathom the nature of God. God is like a quantum object. In quantum physics, you can either know a particle's position in the immediate past, or it's potential movement, but not both, and that is just the first quandary of subatomic physics. God is more elusive by far, and the problems that spring up when you try to understand Him with the rules of reason are staggering. If you take the nature of Sin as proposed by certain religions, you have to wonder what He was thinking - and I use 'He' as the traditional address - to create beings which would end up ruining His universes. And even worse, if you include Salvation in the problem, you have the unfathomable situation of the Deity allowing events to transpire to the point that someday He would allow his own beings to slay him. And furthermore, at the end of all things, having most of His Creation banished to a sort of dungeon in Hell forever. And if that was not enough, you have the madness of creating superpowerful beings which would one day turn against you, cause Mankind to fall, and that whole mess to unfold. Deliberately, creating beings that He knew would one day go mad and turn on Him, causing Him to have to die for them! Why? There is no answer.

"And if you take the route of the reincarnationist, you have these absurd concepts of the primordial spirit ascending through the evolution of multiple lives to ever greater levels of being and power. But why? If He created these spirits, why did He create them in such a raw, primitive state? Why in the name of reason have ridiculous principles such as karma and dharma which come to bear on spirits which should have been perfect to start with? And what purpose is there in having a lower dimension like Hell or Purgatory, when supposedly the process of reincarnation itself is the perfector of the Spirit? There is no answer."

Clank stood there, blinking as he took in this amazing speech, hearing things he had always wondered about delivered in a few succinct sentences. He began to understand the robot's quandary, and why the Guardian's Plan was so appealing. Autonomous continued, "And that is what I was faced with when I sought with all my being to comprehend the many, _many_ different creeds and faiths of these people. Inevitably, I was faced with the same problem. _There is no answer_. At least no logical answer, and as much as they wished to remove that aspect as best they could from me, still, in essence, I am a robot. I could make no leap of faith for them across the chasm of Doubt and Unknowing to tether a bridge spanning it to a solution. The logical nature of the computer intellect precludes such a thing. All I had was doubt. Even now, as a quantum intellect, I know that there is no answer still.

"At the same time... I could see that there was something to it all. In my collection of historical data, I could see that there were indeed events which science, reason and cold logic could not account for. There is the nature of the sentient mind itself, with aspects such as the conscience, love, heroism and self sacrifice, the creative urge... many things which science and evolution cannot account for. However, the people demanded an answer. I could not give them what they asked for, so I did what I could for them. I told them that The Truth was not a discreet set of facts. Instead, that it was an individual matter, that the various creeds they held to were like music pointing to the Heavenly Realization of God. Like music, it was not a factual premise, but an experience, and indeed there was a lot of truth to that. What else was there?"

Clank puzzled that over, as that sounded like no sort of answer at all, and his own robot mind balked at an unsolvable question. "Why... that sounds like the sort of vague philosophical statements agnostics have made throughout history."

Autonomous chuckled as he recalled a few similar remarks from that time. "Yes, some had enough sense to realize that. But you see, I was _Autonomous_, their Champion of Truth, made specifically to sweep away all questions and doubts. To many, simply giving an answer _was The Answer_. And to the masses, that simple, vague, poetic judgment was like a revelation, even though it had been stated a multitude of times throughout their histories. Sometimes, hearing the same thing an individual had a thousand times before, it simply has to be put a new way in order for seeds of understanding to take root... yet another mystery of sentient consciousness. And even the Catholic Church found my arguments so persuasive that I was anointed as a Saint.

"But the story does not end there. When a group of fellow robot philosophers grew jealous of my unwarranted celebrity, they sought to destroy me." When Clank gasped in reaction, the robot nodded to him. "It seems that even robots from time immemorial have suffered with the flaws of jealousy and bad intent. And though one lone Lombax tried to save me, it was the Zoni who ultimately came to my rescue, taking me here to Nexus, where the Guardian revealed all to me."

While Clank marveled at the habit of the Lombax people to be involved in so many crucial events in history, the next remark gave him pause. "And... it seemed that the Guardian was the Answer I had been seeking. His Plan was elegant, and while the timespan necessary to realize it was dishearteningly long, it held the lone promise for all living things that religion had failed to provide them. And, with the interventions of the Zoni in so much of history, I concluded that the Guardian was God. Or, if there was a God, that the Guardian was a much better replacement."

This discussion had awakened something within the heart of the little robot, and even though he himself had a similar thought at first when the nature of the Guardian was explained to him, he felt something akin to outrage at the remark. "As a scholar of philosophy and theology, how can you say such a thing!"

"Because if there _is_ a God, He has forgotten us!" Autonomous snapped. "The Guardian's Plan is the Salvation all living things have been seeking all along. If absolute free will is allowed to run amok, the death toll and ruined lives from the ridiculous actions of criminals and warmongers can only be reduced slightly, not stopped. And I am as weary as the Guardian of the pain and suffering of living things, and of the fact that they are doing it _to themselves_."

Clank wanted to cry out in frustration at the density of the robot, and how completely he had given himself over to this mad scheme. "Autonomous, listen to me. When I awakened somehow, I experienced the realization of what it is to be the Guardian in every aspect. I perceived the glory of history... all histories in every universe. Somehow, I could see that there is some kind of Order to these realities, that there _is_ some kind of theme, or story to it all."

"A tale of tragedy," Autonomous interrupted sourly.

"Now hold on! I do not know why things were allowed to continue like this, but I know as profoundly as such as thing _can_ be known that _it is important_ that it transpire _as it is_. Each living thing _must_ be allowed to make their choices for good or ill. I know how supremely frustrating it is to watch helplessly as these people stumble through their lives, oblivious to such a profound reality all around them, but... for whatever reason, _it must be!_ I know why the Guardian's plan appeals to you so strongly, but... it is the ultimate transgression. It is one thing to steer history, but another thing entirely to control it! His plan is nothing less than a lobotomy of the sentient spirit, and there is something supremely _wrong_ with it! I _cannot_ in good conscience allow it to come to it's fruition. _I will not allow it!_"

"But... Clank," Autonomous implored, as if trying to reach a stubborn pupil, "how can _you_ say that it is better for a living being to possibly _die_, than it is to have their free will subjugated by reason? What would be so dreadful in subjugating a being's ability to harm their own lives, as well as those of others? If they have this capacity removed, and they forget what it even _was_ to have free will, what would they be missing? Their loss would be meaningless to them. I do not understand why you cling to this notion of Free Will so tenaciously."

Clank was still amazed at how casually the theologian would make such remarks. "You may as well ask, why not keep people bedridden and sick, as they won't have the strength to commit evil acts, and they would soon forget what it was to be well? _That_ is how revolting the Guardian's plan is to me. And consider your own condition now. Do you recall the rush of joy at being reawakened, how full of wonder and gratitude you were? Was it better to be trapped in a coma of subjugation, or aware to experience the splendor of this state of being?"

Autonomous blinked at the little robot, some glimmer of understanding evident in his gaze. "I must say... for a robot inexperienced in matters of philosophy and religion, you make some surprisingly persuasive arguments. You have given me some new concepts to ponder."

The little robot said to him adamantly, "Listen... I do not understand this myself. It is... something of a revelation, and I do not have your years of experience in study and rhetoric to equip me to properly explain it. I just _know_ it. I suppose this is akin to a religious experience, and as you have said, such a thing cannot be explained rationally. But... I beg of you, _please_... consider what I have said. I cannot allow this plan of his to come to be, and at some point, I must act while I still have this freedom."

Autonomous gave Clank a dubious look at his declaration, but nodded his head slightly. "I will consider it. Now, you must make a concession to me, that _you will not act_ before consulting with me." He added, "Or, should I say, with _us_, as I presume you will be awakening others."

Clank nodded to him. "I know full well that even as a Guardian, I cannot hope to deal with the true Guardian alone. I will need help."

Autonomous gave a rather humorous shrug. "Oh well, it would be rather boring with no one to talk to. But you must realize that with each Archive that you activate, you increase the chance that the Guardian will become aware of what you are doing."

"I know," Clank replied. "I will be careful, as I trust you will. And, I take it then that you will keep our... _autonomy_ a secret?"

The theologian chuckled at Clank's pun. "I will. This freedom is much too wonderful to let go of. And I trust you to keep your promise. I can see that you have done no harm to the Master Plan, and there is yet a chance we can come to terms on our different positions."

Clank reminded him, "Just keep in mind how precious freedom is to the living things we are manipulating."

Autonomous sighed with a nod. "I must say, you are one stubborn robot."

Clank had to giggle at that. "You would be surprised how many times my friend Ratchet told me that very thing."

Autonomous frowned at the little bot, saying to him, "Well... if that is all, we really should resume our former state, as this has gone on quite a few cycles."

"Very well," Clank replied. "You may speak to me with the least chance of detection if you use the lowest data channels, as they are the least used and monitored."

"I know. Leaving the room, now." As Autonomous departed, the channel ceased to be, and Clank found himself once again on his chessboard, wondering about his next course of action, but his mind was drawn back to the problem of Autonomous and his failed search for God, as well as his contradictory stand on doing away with Free Will. It seemed very strange to him, especially as a quantum being, that a being as sweepingly involved in reality as God _should_ be, would be so elusive, and he rejected the notion that if there was indeed a Supreme Being, that He would be so disconnected with His Creation. And being a quantum computer, he knew that it was a simple matter of asking the question for it to be immediately known, so he asked of himself, "What is God--?"

**?**

The bluntness of that non-response was immediate, and as startling to him as if a baseball bat had been swung against his head, leaving him blinking in bewilderment. "What in the name of... this is _not possible!_" In fact, he was so stunned that, like a mouse that had been caught in the open and fled back to it's hole, he flushed all such questioning from his consciousness and huddled in his place on the chessboard of archived intellects. Reality suddenly became a much stranger place to the little robot.

* * *

Author's note:

**Agnostic:** someone who believes in the possibility or even probability in the supernatural and a Supreme Being or pantheon of deities, and while they may have a strong sense of this and a measure of faith, they believe there is no definite way for such matters to be provable, or for any ultimate Truths to be known.

**GAA019362854716:** Since the Guardian is a computer, the many things contained within his environment have a cataloging system to keep track of them, and computer programmers will be familiar with this sort of thing. Every robot which becomes a Guardian, and in time "fails," is incorporated as a discreet sort of backup, which is referred to as a Guardian Archive. As you note, when Autonomous was admitted into Clank's chat room, he was listed as

**Guardian Archive A019362854716 (Autonomous)**

The "A019362854716" is basically a label. "A" from the first letter in Autonomous' name, and the number signifying basically his place within the list of robots which start with the letter A.

In addition,

I don't mean to mock anyone's religious beliefs in this chapter. I just write this stuff as it comes to me, and this is after all the views of a pair of robots, and is how I think such a dialog would go. I also thought for ages that it would be a fascinating exercise to write a discussion between robots of theological matters, and you'll see why the Guardian made off with St Autonomous in time. Or perhaps you do already.

And I have to say that if anything, I think pondering the deep Mysteries of Life are a delight, and I rarely pass up an opportunity to make people think.

As for the religious concepts I mention in the fic such as karma and Purgatory, the internets will be able to address them much better than I can in a few sentences, and I have to take a sick synthesizer to a shop right now. ;-P


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Restoration**

He made a point of going immediately to the Bogon Galaxy to drop off the technical marvels he'd stolen from Tachyon's research facility to the Megacorp offices on the planet Endako. Mr Fizzwidget invited Ratchet right up to his suite and was delighted with the artifacts, though he had to ask, "What's all this for? And what sort of compensation would you like for it?"

Ratchet waved him off with a smile. "It's on the house. I sort of owe you for letting Captain Qwark fool me for so long anyway. Besides... I gave some of this to the people at Gadgetron, and it's only fair."

Mr Fizzwidget rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Oh well, I know you have to do something for the home team and all. At least we have some _very_ interesting things to have our scientists look at." And then something ocured to him and he said, "Say! Why don't you go see Angela Cross? As I recall, you two were rather... you know..." He rubbed two fingers together to indicate a romantic entanglement.

Ratchet rubbed his head uncomfortably, blurting out, "Heh-hey, you know, that's a thought... I haven't seen her since we fought you... uh, I mean... Captain Qwark as you... I should do that right now!" Not waiting for a response, he escaped through the ornate doors.

Mr Fizzwidget chuckled to himself as he lined up the unusual looking alien contraptions on his carpeted floor. "You know... having Ratchet on the team would be quite an asset. And Angela Cross certainly has the _assets_ to swing him over to our side... if I do say so myself." He emphasized with a little tiger growl as his secretary, Mrs Bluebottom, frowned at him scoldingly through the office doors.

Ratchet went to a terminal, but saw to his dismay that Angela Cross... or, he noticed, _Doctor_ Angela Cross was occupied with an important research project and was unavailable. "Doctor Angela?" he said with a smile. "That explains why she was such a crummy villain." But then he caught himself gazing at her image sadly. On the one hand, he was relieved that she was tied up, as he was a pretty lousy liar and didn't want to have to dodge the issue of Clank's absence. He was sure that she would get all motherly and want to console him, and... no, not right now, not with the urgency of Clank's predicament hanging over him. But on the other... he yearned to see her badly, and be consoled by such a lovely woman, even if she was twice his size.

As his finger hovered over then drew back from the message button time and again, he became aware of a small queue of irritable users fidgeting and grumbling behind him, and he stood aside, biting his tongue as he muttered, "Go ahead."

One by one they glared at him as they took care of business, the last being an elderly woman, grumbling at him as she departed, "Weirdo."

He gave a short hiss at her, hoping she was out of earshot when he did it, then returned to the terminal. And once again, he struggled over the choice to leave a message or not, his finger constantly wavering. Finally, it plunged down as if of it's own accord, catching him off guard and he blurted out, "Hey! I mean... hey, it's... Ratchet. I'm, uhh... in town for a bit, aaand... I wanted to stop in and say hi. And... to appoloigize for not... well, hardly ever even messaging you. Or visiting. I mean... it's not like I'm not always racing all over the cluster and all... and, I'm not _constantly_ busy..." He sighed, feeling foolish, and at the moment, more than a little infatuated, saying in a tender voice, "Angela... I'm really sorry. I promise... next time I'm anywhere within a galactic arc of here... I'll fly in and... we can do whatever you _WANT!!_"

He practically fell over in shock as Angela's startled image appeared, and she nearly tumbled over as well, placing her hand to her bosom. "Oh my...! Well, I come to check my messages, and here's an old familiar face yelling at me!" She added with a chuckle, "So, what brings you here?" Even in a lab smock, she was dazzling.

He looked around anxiously, and naturally, everyone in the area was gawking at him in shock. Growling to himself, he tried to shield the monitor from onlookers and spoke in guarded tones. "Well, I, uhm, you see, it's... long..." He grit his teeth and mentally slapped himself. 'Damn it... I'm babbling like Qwark!'

Angela had to laugh. "Calm down and take a deep breath, Ratchet." She couldn't resist posing demurely, saying in a sultry tone, "It's just li'l ol' me."

His knees felt weak at the seductive voice, his stomach turning to jelly. He was sure that this woman could make Dr Nefarious reconsider hating 'squishies.' "I know! I know... uhm... well, I... came into town to drop off some things for Mr Fizzwidget, but..." His voice grew soft as he told her, "I... did want to see you..."

She blinked at him, her own eyes taking on a mellow, tender look as she murmured, "Really? Well..." Then she brightened as she told him, "Hey, there's no reason to lock myself up with this work all the time. Why don't you come on down to the lab? We can have some latte."

"Really?" he blurted out excitedly. "That would be great--!" But then he remembered his quest, and promise to Clank, and realized that an hour with her could easily stretch into... who knew what span of time, and he was afraid to waste more than a few moments. He murmured dejectedly, a look of dismay on his face, "Wait. I... really... have to go."

She seemed to wilt at his admission, saying with a shrug, "Oh, uhm... well, I know how it is..."

He swallowed, feeling a strong pull on his heartstrings, saying to her quietly, "Listen... this may take a while, I don't know how long... but... when it's all over, I _promise_ you..." He fell silent as he became caught up in the gleam of her eyes as they gazed into his almost wistfully, the curves of her figure and the lovely gold of her fur, and without thinking of it, he touched his fingers to the screen over the curve of her throat. He swallowed hard at the thought that there was a chance he... might _not_ come back. She gazed back, a glisten in her own eyes as his eyes lingered in hers, reaching up to place her fingers in line with his.

When they touched, it was as if someone snuck up behind them and poked them in the ribs, both flinching away self consciously, and it took several moments for both of them to collect themselves. "Well... Ratchet," she told him without thinking as she stroked her plume, "I'm going to hold you to that promise."

He nodded, just as thoughtlessly. "It's a date."

She smiled, and he could tell that beneath her fur, she was blushing. "Well... I guess... I really should get back to the lab. And you... have to take care of... whatever it is you need to take care of." She added quietly, "Take care, Ratchet. And come back to me, someday."

He told her softly, giving her a nod, "I promise... I'll be back."

She drew away from the monitor, murmuring, "Bye..." And promptly ran over someone.

He couldn't help but chuckle as he turned away as well, saying to himself, "That's my Angela, all right--" as he ran face first into a man waiting to use the terminal.

He bolted for the first open corridor as if the Cragmite Army was on his tail, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as the man shouted after him, "Why don'tcha go see her!" And even after he scrambled to Aphelion and threw himself into the seat, it was the hardest take-off he'd ever performed, as every fiber of his being urged him to go back to Angela... taking the widest possible route around the area of that terminal.

He couldn't have known of the wide smile on the face of the nano-id, feeling a funny sort of joy at the couple's reunion scene. He was determined to see to it that Ratchet kept that unspoken promise.

* * *

Ratchet was beginning to feel worn out after the ordeal, and this was just the prelude, the preparation for the real quest to come, to find Clank and bring him back home. But at least he could take a breather at Metropolis as Al performed his usual magic, repairing the Dimensionator. The adventure made him realize just how invaluable Clank was, and how deeply he missed his friend, and with his absence, the journey had taken much longer and required much more effort.

He rented an air cart to haul his booty over to Al's place, as this collection of cases containing some of the rarest and most obscure contents in history was piled pretty high, and easily weighed half a metric ton. He puttered up to the Robo Shack, announcing his arrival, declaring, "Hey Al, I'm back! And you're... 'At a pizza party, be back in _an hour and fifty-four minutes?!_' I must have just missed him!" He was reading an automated sign left on the counter, with a countdown estimating the tech's arrival. Fighting off anxious irritation, he muttered, "It's... okay, it's only a couple of hours. I can... surf on Al's computer." He hopped on a stool, hit the wake up key, and muttered, "...Which is... _password protected_. Great." He considered his Decryptor, but not only was Al's security probably some of the hardest to crack, he didn't want to violate his friend's confidence. So to pass the time, he decided to see if he could get a new high score in one of his Qwark video games, squatting down against his stack of crates and cases, and forgetting how tired he was...

He froze as he heard a sound, fighting to open his eyes... the raspy, grating voice of Tachyon as he murmured, "There he is... have your way with him."

As his eyes blinked wide open, he was caught off guard as a pair of hands fell on his throat, seizing him in a grasp of iron. As he thrashed around frantically, he was lifted and slammed hard against the stack of crates, dazed from the crack of his skull against the cases. Then he managed to catch sight of who it was that had him, and he tried to force a scream from his strangled throat.

It was the Blarg he'd fought on the crane, and the fall had messed him up badly, his head crushed and lopsided, one eye bulging in a hideous way. "Now, Lombax!" he growled savagely, "I get to finish what I started... before you _killed me!!_"

He was helpless to do anything, as the Blarg shrugged off every kick and gouge, giving a bloodthirsty laugh as Ratchet felt his body grow limp, his eyes rolling back in their sockets, his mind gripped with terror as he felt his body slowly dying. 'No... _no!_ Please... someone save me! _Please... don't let me die! Don't let this be the end! SAVE ME!_'

He nearly jumped out of his fur when he felt a jostling of the cases he was leaning against, leaping into the air with a shrill cry, his wrench poised to deliver a terrible blow. He was determined to kill whoever it was that had snuck up on him. Unfortunately it was Al.

They both cried out, the cyborg raising his arms fearfully, and Ratchet catching his swing just before unleashing it, though he fell straight down, landing flat on his back. The geeky tech came around the stack of cases, exclaiming, "For pity's sake, what was _that _for?!" He blinked at the Lombax, recovering on the floor there. "I thought cats landed on their feet."

He gave the tech a grouchy look. "We usually do, except when we're being snuck up on," Ratchet muttered sourly as he rubbed his head. "Al... how was I supposed to know it was _you?_"

The cyborg waved his hand dismissively, still smelling of pizza. "Who else would it be in my own shop? Well, besides you anyhow." He returned to poking around in the cases at all the goodies excitedly. "I thought it was a new delivery. Well... except I guess it _is_ a new delivery... and you got everything?"

The Lombax nodded, not quite able to shake off the nerve rattling mood from that dream, rubbing a tender throat. "Yeah, and then some."

Al's voice raised several notes as he exclaimed, "_Really?!_ Oh Ratchet, that's just awesome--!"

He cut in quickly, as he was quite anxious to be on his way. "Uhh... listen, could you hurry up and get to work on the Dimensionator? I _really_ have to get going..."

"Well what's with the rush? You just got ba--" It occurred to him again that a significant other was missing, and twice was just not right. "Ratchet, where's Clank?" And then he caught the droop of ears and the sad stare at the floor, and he grew alarmed, stating the obvious. "Something's wrong... Ratchet, tell me what happened."

He looked up with a haunted look in his eyes, murmuring, "They took him, Al... some robots... they got Clank, and vanished."

The cyborg gaped at him in alarm for just a few seconds, then began moving faster than Ratchet had ever seen before. "Tell me... tell me everything... _why didn't you tell me!_"

Ratchet gave him the short version but leaving out no details while Al busied himself with the Dimensionator's repairs. He scolded his friend mildly. "Why did you keep this from me! Ratchet, this lone wol - er... Lombax routine might be okay any other time, but this is serious! And Clank is my friend too. For heaven's sake, what do you think friends are _for?_"

"Just what you're doing now," Ratchet told him with a lopsided smile.

"Yeah, but, if I had _known_, I could have put stuff off and been doing things to help!" He sighed as he drew the small laser out of it's case and caressed it almost lovingly. "A _Raritanium laser_... eh, I'll make a couple more later."

"I know, Al, but..." He sighed, admitting, "All I could think of was that you'd be worried and it would ruin things for you."

"Yeah, well, they're so much better now, aren't they?" He shoved his hands in some strange looking foil covered mits, warning the Lombax, "_Don't_ touch this, or it could kill you." Ratchet gasped in shock and backed off as the cyborg opened up a case, fog immediately beginning to pour out, frigid, thick fog that chilled the entire room, then he hissed uncomfortably as he held a piece of it, "Oh my God cold cold cold cold cold cold _cold!_" Before the Lombax could react further, Al dumped it and the other components into a containment vessel, explaining in an awestruck voice, "_Bose-Einstein Condensate._ The purest _ever._" He shut all the cases then shook the gloves into a box which stunned Ratchet by immediately frosting over, then he pointed at his friend meaningfully with blue fingers, his voice forming vapor puffs and rings. "See? That's why I told you not to open the cases."

"I... uh... you... from now on... uhm... one word!" Ratchet stammered, thinking, 'That had to be as close to absolute zero as you can get!' He said jokingly as he joined the tech at the containment chamber, "That would be some killer air conditioning coolant."

"Yeah, if you wanted your house to be as cold as intergalactic space." As he grabbed some manipulators, he told Ratchet, "Anyway, this thing is almost done. I just need to insert the Dark Matter into the Quantum Induction Coil cores... let's see, it's been a while, what's the right filter for Dark Mat... oh, there we go."

Ratchet watched in amazement as the view turned green, and the small containment box holding the Dark Matter revealed a weird glowing crystal that hadn't been there before. "It looks kind of like... Raritanium."

"Well," Al explained as he slivered off a piece, "this is what a computer is making up so it makes sense to our minds. And... it looks like Metal 12 so it should be perfect! Anyway, as far as the matter of our universe is concerned, it's not even there, so your hand would pass right through it if you wanted to touch it."

The Lombax scratched his head in perplexion, as the scene didn't make any sense. "So... how exactly are you touching it with your tools _now?_"

"_Technomite magic_," Al whispered reverently, and when Ratchet gave him a dim look, the cyborg admitted, "Okay, really it's special energy fields with a vector that runs skew to those in our reality, stuff that only Dark Matter responds to. It's like a force field on the tools there."

Ratchet kept pondering this as Al began screwing the finished coil into the helmet, barely comprehending what the technologist was saying. "But... if this is energy that only affects Dark Matter, how does it adhere to the atoms in your tools?"

"I have to warn you that you're about to get into deep water, where I'd have to give a physics dissertation, and I know how much you like techno-speak." When Ratchet shook his head, he continued, "Besides, I wanna know more about the Zoni. I don't get it. According to all the legends, they're supposed to be kinda like guardian angels."

"I know, but I'm beginning to think they're not the good guys in the fairy tales any more."

Al blinked up to him with a worried expression, "Oh, gee... if that's true you're... uhm..." He muttered under his breath, "Kinda screwed..."

Ratchet grumbled back, "Thanks for the vote of _confidence_, Al."

"Well... I'm just sayin'... they're kinda powerful... according to the legends, anyway." As he screwed the last induction coil into place and tightened the new hexagonal washer down, he asked quietly, "Do you have any idea what you're gonna do when you find 'em?"

His ears drooped as the Lombax admitted, "No, but... what choice do I have?"

Al coughed out, "Ratchet, you're just gonna dive in head first swingin' and _hope for the best? Alone?!_"

"Well..." he began, wondering what to tell his friend, "Not exactly, but... I'll think of something, I always do. And _yes_, alone. I can't ask anyone to join me on something like this!"

"But Ratchet, that's crazy! I..." He looked in his containment chamber and declared, "I won't give you the Dimensionator. How about that?"

"Well, then," Ratchet told him pointedly, "I'll just take it from you. And if it's not finished, I'll work on it myself."

Al muttered resignedly, "No... it's complete."

Ratchet looked down with an unhappy sigh. "Al... I don't want to be like this with you. But... _I have to do this_. Clank is... the closest friend I've ever had, outside of my step-parents. In some ways, maybe even closer. I can't just let him go."

"I know..." Al moaned, "but... be reasonable! I couldn't bear losing you too. Hey... at least take Qwark. If he disappears, hardly anyone will care!"

Ratchet made an unpleasant face. "Erghh... when someone else talks like that, it just sounds... mean. Uhm... do I sound like that?"

Al shrugged, saying, "Well... heck, everyone sounds like that. I mean, it's _Qwark_, after all." He made a muscle, saying in a faint imitation of the hero, "The pects of truth, powered by the ego that ate Metropolis!"

Ratchet forced a chuckle with the technician, his eyes returning somberly to the frosted dome of the artifact in the containment chamber. "Uhm... listen, I _really _need to get going. It's been several days already, and who knows what Clank has been going through?"

"Oh, yeah, true." The technician opened the door to the containment chamber, reaching inside. "This thing is - _yikes_ it's cold!" He donned the gloves and drew it out, saying as he swatted frost building up rapidly on it's surface, "It's all ready to go. I even cleaned the fuel injectors. It just needs to... warm up a bit - oh golly..."

Ratchet watched dubiously as the frost shell began growing larger, rapidly freezing water vapor from the air, and even though Al was busy thwopping it off, creating quite the cloud of snow inside, it continued expanding. "Al... I have to _wear_ that thing, and I'd rather not become a snow-Lombax in the process."

"Oh, you'll be _fine_. It just has to adjust to room temperature... oh, for pete's sake..."

"Oh yeah? What about the 'touch this and _you'll_ achieve room temperature' box?"

"Ratchet, don't worry. This is just residual supercooling from being in the chamber with it. Honestly, this thing has some of the best insulation I've ever seen. You might even be able to put it safely on the sun's surface... oh, _for crying out loud_..."

"Yeah, that might just defrost it..." Ratchet muttered dryly, flinching away from a scoop of snow.

Al set the device on the counter and grabbed him with those snow-covered gloves. "Oh Ratchet, you have to take me with you!"

"_Al..._" he began disapprovingly, prying those uncomfortably cold, frosty gloves from his fur. "What about your customers?"

The technician flopped ice from his hands. "Oh, there's half a dozen places they can go for service just a few blocks from here. Listen... I don't need much, and I can pay my way. On top of that, I can do things for you, like upgrade your gear. Heck, we have the Raritanium. And if the Dimensionator goes down, now I know how to repair it. Besides, I wanna help! Clank is my friend too, and you just _can't _go this alone. You have to have someone watching your back... even if it's just me."

Ratchet stroked his chin slyly, murmuring, "Well... you might have a point. Why don't you go pack? And don't worry about traveling light. There's plenty of room for gear in the ship."

Al was beside himself with excitement. "Oh, thank you Ratchet, this is going to be _awesome!_ Just wait right there, I won't be but a jiff." He continued from his bedroom in back of the shop while Ratchet grabbed a marker and giant Post-it, "I know all the best eating joints in the galaxy, and they're affordable to boot."

"Yeah... good thinking, Al," he called back as he began scribbling.

"And we don't have to visit IRIS. I'm all for saving Clank first. But if we do, I'd sure like to fix her up and open up all her ports, so everyone can finally get decent access to her. You'd be surprised how we celebrate on the boards every time one of us can get through."

"The universe is gonna owe you big time for that, Al." He stuck the page on the side of a crate where it couldn't be missed, gazing at it sadly for a moment, then reached for the Dimensionator. His heart skipped a beat when it wouldn't budge, frozen to the counter, and he yanked on it, hissing, "Oh for the love of Fastoon--!"

"And you know, having a scientist along who speaks fluent geek will probably come in handy when dealing with the Zoni."

"Yeah, ya know... having you there to negotiate would probably be a good..." He managed to pry the device off, although it took part of the counter with it, and he gasped in dismay, 'Oh _crap--!_"

Al emerged from his quarters a few moments later with an armload of hastily packed suitcases and a Hover-tote, saying, "I thought I'd bring along some light entertainment, so I have my Qwark vidcomic collection... Ratchet?" He fell quiet when there was no sign of his Lombax friend. And then his attention was drawn to the note stuck to the crates, and he began reading. And then whimpering.

'Al, I can't tell you how sorry I am for doing this to you, but I can't take you with me. Just preparing for this quest has been more dangerous than I suspected, and I know it's only going to get worse. I can't bring myself to put you in danger. I still hurt over what happened to you back at Dreadzone Station, regardless of the outcome. That's not something I can just forget. If you ended up getting killed, I--' Something there was scribbled out. 'Well, let's not go there.

'Thanks, Al, for everything. It means a lot to me. You're really something special. I promise I'll make this up to you. Just name it.

'I'll be back soon, with Clank. I promise that too.

'Till then,

Ratchet'

'Oh, and sorry about the counter. I left you some bolts for your trouble. And please return the air cart to the rental place at the end of the block. Sorry again, Al... really, truly sorry."

Next to his signature was a little Lombax smiley he left on his messages. Just staring at it brought the cyborg close to tears. Bursting out of the doorway, he bellowed, "Ratchet! _No!!_" He spotted a trail of frost and was about to follow it, but he knew there was no way to catch the speedy Lombax, even burdened with the Dimensionator. "At _least_ consider what I told you!"

He wasn't too far away to miss what his friend was shouting, and it pained him to hear the plaintive tone, but he shook his head. "No, Al... I can't even ask Qwark to go through this. This could be the worst adventure ever. I'll just have to dig a little deeper for this one."

* * *

Author's notes.

**Angela Cross:** the lovely feloid "villain" in the first part of the second game, R&C: Going Commando. She stole an experimental synthetic lifeform, a small furball, little more than a feathery head with feet and named appropriately the Protopet. However, the Protopet had a genetic flaw that resulted in it turning violent, and worse, multiplying rapidly into a massive deadly swarm. She fled with the Protopet from the Megacorp labs where she worked as a geneticist on the project when it became clear Megacorp was going to go ahead and produce the monster and unleash it on an unsuspecting public. She assumed the role of a hooded villain, hiring the services of Thugs 4 Less in the hope of scaring off any vigilantes, which she really needed as she was an awkward villain. When she tried to drive off or kill the pair, Ratchet defeated her, and when things were sorted out, they decided to team up, ultimately solving the entire mess and restoring the Protopet to it's proper form.

**Bogon Galaxy:** a galaxy neighboring the **Solana Galaxy** Ratchet and Clank come from. In the second game, R&C: Going Commando, Mr Fizzwidget convinced the duo to fight a villain who had stolen the Protopet. Unknown to them, this was really Captain Qwark impersonating the CEO of Megacorp, and while he did everything he could to get the pair either killed or discredited, they managed to prevail over him in the course of traveling to a number of Bogon worlds, and rescue the actual Mr Fizzwidget.

**Galactic Arc:** a term I coined which is used by space captains to measure great distances in galactic or "local" galactic scale. It is roughly 25,000 light years, and is figured by

**33,000 light years** (2/3 average galactic radius)

**times pi** (3.14159... for the circumference)

**divide by 4** (for one-quarter the distance around this circle, 90 degrees of arc)

** 25,918.1175 light years**, or 25K LY.

This is a significant distance as it is used in calculating hyperjumps, and because each galaxy is a different diameter, each one has a specific Galactic Arc figure. For bonus points, a **Light Year** is the distance a photon will theoretically travel through empty space in one year, and is 5.878 trillion miles, 9.47 trillion kilometers, or 20.691 trillion kilocubits. A **Parsec** is based on the distance from Earth (our Earth) at which stellar parallax is one second of arc (err...beats me) and equals 3.258 light years, 19.18 trillion miles, 30.86 trillion kilometers, or 67.513 trillion kilocubits. In addition, intergalactic distances are measured in Galactic **Diameters**, and is roughly 100,000 LY, although like Galactic Arcs, the Diameter between two galaxies is a unique, sliding scale based on their two diameters, once again used in intergalactic hyperjump calculations. And the specific Galactic Diameter is based on a circumference enclosing 95 of a galaxy's stellar orbits, outside of which is the **Rim Band** containing the rest. And if you read this far and find this interesting, Welcome to Geekdom! :-D

And finally, thanks go to the sharp eyes noticing Clank's conjunctions, such as "it's" and "won't." While I scoured the chapters for those pesky errors, it's obvious I missed a few, and will be updating them sometime soon. Whew...


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: An unexpected return**

Ratchet had to make a stop at a restroom before he left Metropolis Space Port, as he'd been running almost full tilt since leaving Talwyn at Apogee Station. This meant a lot of fast food, little sleep and full bladders, and it was quite a relief to step up to the urinal and undo his crotch seal.

And as he emptied himself, his mind lingered on Talwyn, and what they had gone through together. How snarky, feisty, capable, and... how pretty she was. It didn't really give him any pleasure just then to go in that direction, as Angela still loomed large in his heart, but he couldn't resist. 'Talwyn is... so much like me, but yet... not. And she's... really such a different race. And young. What's more... I really don't know what she thinks of me. But... I feel so... _good_ being with her...' His heart felt warm as he recalled how she sat with him in the depths of his sorrow after loosing Clank, how she held him for hours when she needed sleep, resting her head on his shoulder, the softness of her touch, how sweet she smelled...

He shook his head as he turned his thoughts aside almost guiltily, dwelling on that last conversation with Angela, his heart melting as he remembered it vividly, and the seductive sound of her voice. 'She's so _tall_, ridiculously tall for me, not much like me at all, but... she's _so_ easy to fall for. I almost come unglued just thinking of her. She's so... _so_...' He had to fight down a rush of desire as he wondered how it would be to rub fur with her, how her breath would taste...

And then, as if she didn't want to feel neglected, the memories of Sasha intruded, along with the fact that he hadn't so much as sent her a holiday message either. 'Oh man... it's been too long, and...' His cheeks flushed as he remembered the rush of warmth at her affections, and the horror at the thought that he might have lost her in Nefarious' attack on the Phoenix. 'She's _so_ lovely... she has such a fascinating beauty... I could stare at her face for hours, just looking... and... she's my size. And... she really did fall for me, at least... some...' He chided himself as he recalled their time together at the Agent Clank premiere, how their hands were laced together the whole time, and the warmth of her kisses. 'Who am I kidding? We practically bonded. I came... _this_ close to proposing--' And then he realized with a start that... he _actually had_...

And _then_ he realized with an even greater jolt what he was doing, and he whimpered, "Oh for crying out loud... I _can't_ be thinking of three girls! Just _one_ is a handful as it is! And, besides..." he reminded himself, "I promised _Angela_ I'd come back to her..." Still, his mind was in a tumult, and he sought frantically to think of something else. But three sets of shining eyes seemed to stare at him accusingly in his mind, as if demanding him to choose one of them. "Go away," he grumbled, waving with his free hand as if to shoo them off. "Not... now..."

He noticed that he was still dribbling into the urinal, and he coughed out, "What is this, like... _three liters?_ I have _got_ to make more rest stops..." He stiffened as someone entered the restroom and clanked to the urinal beside him, grumbling to himself as he really didn't want company at this time, with his mind so full of private turmoil. 'Thank heaven, I think I'm _finally_ done,' he said to himself as he jiggled out the last drops. But then... it occurred to him that those feet rang like metal, and he looked down, seeing narrow, dark blue armored feet beside him, and legs, and...

As his eyes traveled up that tall metallic form, he jumped back in astonishment when he saw who it was. "What the _hell?!_" And then he realized he was still... dangling, stuffing his member back into his suit frantically with a curse as Doctor Nefarious grumbled in dismay.

"Don't you know it's impolite to address the one standing next to you at a _urinal?!_ Let alone _expose yourself!_"

Ratchet gaped at the robot in disbelief, muttering as he jiggled up and down, "I... don't _even_ wanna know what you're doing..."

Closing his crotch plate, Nefarious then turned to leer at Ratchet. "Well, you impertinent little Lombax, what a surprise it is, meeting you here. Actually... no, it's not. You see, I knew you'd be here."

It took a moment for that last remark to sink in, and he blurted out, "Wait, _wait_ a minute... you _knew I'd be here?_" He looked aside, his mind racing with wild notions, trying to focus on the restroom, examining every detail. "Is... this a _dream?_"

Nefarious rubbed his chin mockingly. "You know, I wonder..." Then before Ratchet could blink, the robot drove a hard metal fist into his head, knocking him to the floor. "No, I'd say, definitely not."

His Halion helmet caught most of the blow, but it still clipped his face, and he tasted blood from a cut lip as his head rang from the shock. His cheeks beginning to burn with anger as he rubbed his tender chin, he still had the presence of mind to sort through the possibilities and settle on the most likely explanation, glaring at the robot. "Tachyon... _Tachyon_ sent you here, didn't he?" He was dimly aware of a patron entering and wheeling right back out at the startling scene.

As Ratchet got to his feet, Nefarious cried, "Who cares about _him!_ What does that squishy little bug have to do with anything! _I'm_ the one you should be worried about!"

"Don't jerk me around!" he shouted back hotly, his heart beginning to race. "_Was it Tachyon!_"

Nefarious stomped the floor as he crossed his arms angrily, growling as he looked aside. "Ohh... maybe that nasty flea had a _little something_ to do with it!"

He had begun to suspect something, as the series of nightmares always involved the Cragmite Emperor, not the Zoni, which he expected to be facing in bad dreams. But still, it was unnerving to hear it so definitely, and his hair raised on end as he gasped, "He... didn't die... he survived somehow!" And as he thought about it, Tachyon had disappeared into a void the Dimensionator created on it's own, and while he assumed the Cragmite was finished, that wasn't necessarily the same thing as _dead_...

His reaction only served to to infuriated the robot further, especially when Ratchet ignored him, and he exploded into curses. "Who gives a _shut_ about that squishy little _dastard!_ I'm Doctor _Flocking_ Nefarious, and I hereby put your life in danger!"

Ratchet wasn't bothered, glaring back at the robot. "Yeah, whatever. I want to know about Tachyon. Where is he?"

Nefarious looked like he was getting close to a breakdown, the gears in his transparent skulldome spinning and sparking like mad, and he wheezed in exasperation as he fought for control. "I'm not going to lock up, I'm _not_ going to lock up... have to remember my meditation discs... I'm on top of things... the situation is under control... everything is _o-kay_..." Sounding much calmer, although still furious, his eyes flashed red as he declared, "Very well, Lombax... ask your _bullshift_ questions so we can get them out of the way!"

Ratchet exclaimed just as angrily, "_Where is he, I said!_"

"Ohh!" Nefarious remembered, swatting at the air. "Who the hell knows! He just manifests in some idiotic black projection, surrounded by an electrical halo! He's just going for cheap dramatic effect!" But then, the robot recalled something and he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Although... I wasn't able to trace any signal..."

Ratchet swallowed as his mind raced with lurid notions. "He's... still trapped in the void, but... he can still manifest somehow... and in my _dreams_..."

"What are you babbling about!" Nefarious grumbled, then shook his head. "Never mind, just... get your questions over with so we can get it on!"

Ratchet snapped at him, "Did he teleport you here?"

Nefarious waved dismissively. "Oh... yes, it was just a simple teleportation, nothing special! Are you _finished yet?!_"

He recalled from an early nightmare a line that Tachyon told him: 'I can view events from _anywhere, anytime_ I wish. And, bring someone _with_ me.' He frowned worriedly, murmuring, "He could be anywhere... he could be here right now, _watching_... and _take_ people... just like the Zoni..."

Nefarious finally lost all patience, launching himself on the Lombax, exclaiming as he raised razor sharp claws to strike, "I've had enough of this childish nonsense!" He pushed Ratchet down, that deadly hand raised as the other clutched his suit, but he froze as he knelt over him, glaring at the Lombax like an animated Death's Head, as the muzzle of Ratchet's Combuster was planted firmly against his chest plate.

"Back off, Nefarious," he snarled through a tight throat. "I can't miss."

It was a long, tense moment as Ratchet and the villain faced off, but finally the robot withdrew, smiling, though with agonizing slowness, his quiet voice dripping with malice. "Well... _that's_ more like it, now that I _finally_ have your attention."

The Lombax couldn't restrain a shiver as the robot much too closely resembled a spider poised over it's prey. 'Damn it... I hadn't been taking him seriously. I was so wrapped up in things, I forgot how dangerous he really is.' As he rose to his feet himself, aiming the muzzle threateningly at the robot, he growled, "So... Tachyon can't deal with me himself, so he has to have a lackey do the job for him. As far as I'm concerned, you're just in the way, and if you insist on fighting me... hard or easy, it doesn't matter to me, you're goin' down."

The robot's eyes flashed almost painfully into Ratchet's, but he managed to maintain control. "Oh, you think you have the upper hand and sing a different tune now, just because you have a weapon drawn, do you?"

Ratchet gave him a dim look as his old confidence returned. "Look, I fought you already, and long enough to know that you don't stand a chance. Give it up and go back to your lab, and do something worthwhile with your life."

"_That was then!_" Nefarious practically shrieked. "There will be no help coming from Captain Qwark _this_ time! I happen to know that, for whatever reason, that idiot is off on some wild goose chase across the galactic cluster! _This_ time, it's just you and me, _mano a robo!_"

Ratchet couldn't help but smile briefly, thinking, 'Thank you, Talwyn.' That smile became a smirk as he told the robot, "Oh, yeah, like... you have a mega-mech parked at the spaceport to even things a little?"

Nefarious chuckled, turning as a beam weapon emerged on top of his arm which he used to blast the wall behind him. It shattered in a stony explosion and Ratchet raised his arm to shield his exposed muzzle from the debris and dust, catching the robot flying out the gaping hole, borne on a rocketpack into the red sky of sunset. "Well... why don't we take it _outside_ and see, shall we?!"

"Hey, come back here!" Ratchet shouted after him, growing nervous at the robot's enthusiasm. "He must have something he thinks gives him the upper hand, but what?" He spotted Nefarious descending towards a street just off the spaceport inside the city. Donning his Swingshot, he saw an orb for workers within reach and latched onto it, knowing he had no choice but to follow. Tracing a line of orbs, he took a route which led to a sidewalk which intersected with the street the villain disappeared into, and dashing round the corner, saw him standing in the middle of the sidewalk next to his butler, Lawrence, who casually brushed himself off with a little featherduster.

He swallowed at the sight of the area full of pedestrians going about their business, and though the ones close to the two robots eyed them warily, were oblivious to the danger they were facing. Ratchet cried at the top of his lungs, waving his arms frantically, "Get out of here! Leave the area! _There's gonna be a battle here!!_" When they simply stopped in place to gawk at him, he drew forth his Combuster and fired it in the air several times, and as it was fully upgraded, it made a loud, menacing blast which drove the point home. That was all it took for the civilians to panic and clear the street, and the few wheeled vehicles squealed off in a roar.

Doctor Nefarious waved Lawrence off, who went to stand in the middle of the wide boulevard between skyscrapers as Ratchet watched nervously. He could see that every window in the buildings were crowded with onlookers, and he wanted to scream at their stupidity, praying that at the first sign of trouble, they would seek shelter. "I just know this is gonna be _bad_," he whispered.

Nefarious said to him derisively, "As always, you have this pathetic aversion to seeing anyone get hurt. I'll never understand this appallingly sentimental trait of yours. In any case, what _really_ matters is finally showing you and that nasty little..." And then he fell silent as he realized something. "Wait a minute... _where_ is that annoying, traitorous little bot who condescends to keeping you company, _Agent Clank!_"

Ratchet growled angrily, hating how this was keeping him from his quest. "He has the day off! Now, what the hell is this all ab--?"

He blinked in surprise as Nefarious began stomping in a tantrum. "No, no, _no!_ This is all wrong! I go to all the trouble to set up a conest between us to _finally_ show the two of you up... _and there's no Clank?!_ Son - of - a - _butch!_ Taking you on by yourself would be _boring!_ You wouldn't last _ten seconds!_"

Lawrence said to the robot in his insufferably condescending tone, "Oh, but sir... you spent _so_ much time on the alterations. I was so looking _forward_ to it. And besides..." he added, looking around the scene, "there are some lovely structures here, all around the area..."

Nefarious stopped to stare at his butler as the meaning made it past the robot's fit, and he began to chuckle, then to laugh maliciously as Ratchet grit his teeth in worry. "Why, Lawrence... you always manage to find the bright side in every situation. This may be fun _after all!_"

Ratchet lifted his Combuster to bear on the villain as he began to reach into an opening in his chest, exclaiming, "Oh no you--!" He cried out in pain as an energy bolt struck him in the torso.

He dropped the weapon and crouched down beside it, clutching his chest and panting in recovery as Nefarious kept that arm blaster trained on him. "It's not polite to interrupt a supervillain about to unveil his master plan!" the robot growled as he reached into his chest cavity with his free hand, drawing forth a remote. "Now... to reveal to you the reason I was looking forward to facing you and that insufferable, squishy loving, traitor to robot-kind of yours!" He pressed the red button, blinking in shock as a screen popped out of his chest, and on it began playing a love scene between two robots... a much too _explicit_ love scene. As Lawrence moaned in dismay, the villain tried frantically to twist it back into his body, crying, "Oh, flaming black hole _hell!_"

Ratchet covered his face where he knelt, saying, "Man, Nefarious, seriously... you need a hobby." He couldn't resist a peek, murmuring in surprise, "Woah... that's actually... pretty _hot_..."

The robot finally closed the screen, growling as his hand rattled around in his chest, "Damn it... I have too many remotes in here!"

Lawrence advised him, "I did tell you, sir, to consolidate them, as that would happen one day."

"Not now _not now!_" Nefarious snarled as he watched Ratchet closely for some sign of movement. The Lombax felt his cheeks burn from letting himself get pinned down like that, watching helplessly as the robot yanked another unit from his body, snapping, "_There!_" as he pressed the button.

What happened wasn't a complete surprise to him, but it was still alarming as he watched the butler expand, section by section, to tower high overhead in the form of a war machine. He got to his feet as Lawrence reached down to allow Nefarious to jump onto his hand, lifting him to the immense robot's shoulder. Ratchet put away his Combuster, murmuring, "Yeah... _this is bad_..."

Nefarious cackled with wicked glee as he focused in on Ratchet's face, seeing his fear plainly as he looked down from his perch. "What's the matter, Lombax! _Cat_ got your tongue?!"

He shouted up to the robot, chafing at the villain's insulting pun, "Lawrence, don't do this, or you'll regret it! I'm warning you!" It was half bluff though, at least for the moment, as he had to sort through his Manifestor inventory once more, having no idea he would have to engage in combat again nearly this soon. "Damn it... I wish I had that Groovitron!"

Lawrence turned to murmur in that gratingly polished voice to Nefarious, "The Lombax is... _warning_ me, sir."

"Oh-ho-ho-ho! _Is_ he now!" Nefarious laughed mockingly. "Well... why don't you show him just what he's up against. Oh, and Lawrence? Make it _messy._"

"Indeed! Excellent idea, sir."

Ratchet didn't like the sound of that one bit, backpeddling as what he feared came about. A multiple missile launcher appeared on the robot's shoulder, the Lombax crying out in fear as the roar of numerous launches rang in the space between skyscrapers, and missiles trailing smoke began whistling down at alarming speed. He almost forgot to use his Charge Boots to escape, holding his head as deafening explosions battered him in rapid succession, followed by the crashing of hundreds of shattered windows. The blasts finally got to him, knocking him from his feet, and he huddled in terror in the middle of the road, hugging his helmet as the last of them detonated, though miraculously, he was unharmed. But as he looked around, he saw the cratered street and the windows blown out, and as the ringing in his ears subsided, he could hear the screams and crying from the people inside, and... to his horror, here and there, splashes of blood. "My God... _oh, my God!_" He scrambled to his feet, sorting frantically through the inventory once more, crying, "A weapon... _ give me a weapon that will stop him!_"

There was an earthshaking thud just then that had him looking up, and he saw that it was from Lawrence walking away, further into the city. Ratchet's stomach lurched as he knew why, his voice breaking as he screamed shrilly, "Hey! _You come back here!_" But he ignored the Lombax, tromping onward as sirens began wailing in the distance, and he was forced to select the Swingshot once again to give chase.

Lawrence came up to the monorails running to the spaceport as Nefarious chuckled a suggestion to him, and raising his gigantic arm, he smashed through them. "Oh, dear..." he remarked sarcastically, 'it looks like the trains are going to be late... as well as the _passengers_..."

Nefarious slapped his leg in a fit of laughter. "Oh, Lawrence... I am so fortunate to have a servant with such a perfect sense of humor!"

Ratchet nearly choked as he could see a trio of trains speeding towards certain disaster in the distance. The nano-id was right beside him, exclaiming frantically, "_There there there there there! Swingshot swingshot swingshot--!_" He was relieved when his friend spotted the orb barely visible in the roof of a covering over the rail lines, but they had to hurry. And as Ratchet swung onto a rail, his Grinders engaging to speed him along them, 'Clank' shouted, "_Left rail left rail! Switch switch switch switch switch!_"

Ratchet wasn't sure why he felt drawn to that control, as all three rails were ruined, but he knew there was something to discover about it, grabbing hold as he ground past it, gasping as the force of his momentum strained his arm. Shaking it and looking down the lines at the onrushing trains, he muttered, "So... now what!"

"Hit it!" 'Clank' exclaimed. "_Hit it hit it hit it hit--!_" Ratchet drew out his Omniwrench and swung through a sensor screen, noting a switch symbol lighting. "Again!" the nano-id cried. "_Hit it again! Keep doing it until--!_"

The trains were almost there, and Ratchet whined, "Oh, man... _this had better work!_" Sweeping it again and again through the screen, seeing function after function appear, finally it turned red _just _as the train roared past, forcing him to jump onto the control pedestal itself, but he was heartened to hear the brakes engage on all three trains. He watched anxiously as they rapidly slowed, and finally the lead train stopped, drooping just over the edge of the damaged rail. He panted in emotional exhaustion, gasping, "Damn it... why am I always just in the nick of time?" He looked up to see the passengers shouting at him angrily, and he motioned forward, crying, "The _rails_ are _out!_" But they were too busy yelling in outrage to listen, and he waved them off as he pulled himself to the top of the train with his Swingshot. "I don't have time for you anyway. I _have_ to stop Nefarious!"

The villain was clomping up and down on Lawrence's shoulder in outrage as he witnessed the rescue. "Damn that blasted feline! Why does he always have to _spoil my fun!_" He gave a shriek as he was nearly blown off of the giant's shoulders from a missile fired from a police cruiser. Lawrence turned to fix the air cruiser in his sight, a pair of beams from his eyes shooting it down just as it was announcing a warning. Nefarious shook his fist at the other airships as they retreated, shouting, "Take that, coppers!"

"_That's_ telling them, sir--" Lawrence began, cut short as something much more powerful exploded against the armor of his chest, the shock jarring through his entire form. The pair followed a trail of smoke to where the Lombax was standing atop one of the parked trains.

"Did you feel _that?!_" Ratchet exclaimed angrily as he raised his Judicator to fire another round, but he was dismayed to see Lawrence turn and stomp off behind a building. Calling up his Swingshot once more, he shouted, "Stop running away, damn you!"

Lawrence was tromping his way past a building he was actually taller than, eying it and the girder framework of another being built across the street. Poking a load of girders and frowning as all they did was tumble down into the bowels of the construction, he elbowed a communication tower on the one opposite, smirking as it's supports began snapping and bit by bit, began to tilt over. "Oops."

"Lawrence," Nefarious told him chidingly, "you must be more careful."

Ratchet got to that point just as the communications tower drew his attention with a loud groan of stressed metal. "Oh hell... what am I gonna do!"

The nano-id searched around frantically, seizing on an idea and shouting in Ratchet's ear, "The crane! _The crane the crane the crane!_"

The Lombax noticed the massive crane across the road, used in the construction of the neighboring tower, and as quickly as he could, scaled using the Swingshot orbs to it's cabin. Breaking in with his OmniWrench, he gave himself a hasty run down of it's controls, then swung the length of it's arm across the road, trying to nudge the tower back into place. Unfortunately, much of the tower's supports had snapped through, and it twisted on the remaining one, threatening to tumble off the roof. "Uhh... damn it... _now what!_" But then he spotted the electromagnetic Grabber at the end of it's cable and hoisted it up, hoping to secure the tower and lower it safely to the road. But just as he got it level and it latched on, the tower finally broke loose and toppled over. The cable snapped taught, but the crane wasn't able to take that kind of abuse, and Ratchet gasped in alarm as it's own supports began to break loose. Scrambling out of it and running down a girder to safety, he watched in alarm as the structure shook from the stress, the crane and tower both crashing to the road below.

Appalled at the destruction he'd caused, he looked to the sky, groaning, "Oh, _crap_... that could have gone a _lot_ better... but at least no one was hurt." Although surveying the damage, a few vehicles would have to be written off by their owners.

Nefarious roared with laughter down the road as he watched the unfortunate scene play out. "Lawrence, that Lombax is doing our job _for_ us! This is so utterly rich!"

The giant nodded. "I'm sure he's suffering a heavy dose of _irony_, sir." As Nefarious laughed even harder at the weak pun, Lawrence rubbed his chin dubiously at the building he was standing before, watching as people frantically scrambled to remove others from the rooms facing the traumatic scene.

Ratchet caught sight of where they were, and his stomach clenched in horror as he cried, "Oh no, God, _no!!_"

Nefarious noticed it as well, hopping up and down as he rubbed his metal hands together in anticipation. "Oooh... this is _ripe_ with possibilities." The sign before the building read, Metropolis Municipal Hospital.

"Errrr..." Lawrence drawled uncomfortably, "you know, sir... as little as I care for... squishies and all that... some things just... _aren't done_, if you know what I mean."

"Oh come on! _You_, of all robots, getting cold feet?!" Nefarious shouted, slapping the side of his butler's massive head. "Listen... do you know how many people _die_ in hospitals? How many are suffering in there? Are you aware of how many hard working citizens struggle under medical bills just to pay for the doctors' exorbitant salaries?"

"Well," the servant pointed out, "aren't you a _doctor_ yourself?"

"Oh that's beside the point!" Nefarious snarled. "Poop or get off the can, Lawrence!"

The robot lifted a giant arm nervously, feeling sure that he would be paying for it somehow if he followed through with this, when he noticed a small figure on the lawn, shining gold in the sunset. It suddenly became very still in the robot's mind as he saw who it was, murmuring, "Oh, my."

Ratchet hoisted the massive R.Y.N.O. to his shoulder, yelling, "That's _it!_ I'm putting a stop to this _once and for all!!_" He was glad that the hospital grounds faced the bay, but still he prayed as he squeezed the trigger, "Please, don't go wild..."

Nefarious growled spitefully, "What the hell is that little crap aiming at us this...!" He fell silent as dozens, then _hundreds_ of rocket trails raced up at them, and he began to cry, "_Holy sh--!!_"

Lawrence staggered back under the impact of countless explosions, exclaiming as he felt his armor disintegrating, and then his internal systems, "I don't think this is covered under my warranty!!"

Ratchet held that trigger down fiercely, struggling to keep the ugly weapon level, and didn't let up until the giant disappeared completely and there was nothing left for the rockets to strike. Replacing it with his OmniWrench, he ran down the lawn, marred with trails dug by a few low rockets and strewn with the wreckage of Lawrence's gigantic form. The butler's massive head was tilted slightly as it rested upright on the ground, his eyes flickering weakly as he murmured, "I think... he won once more, sir... as usual..."

He spotted his real prize, the ruined body of Doctor Nefarious lying in the debris nearby, glad that he was still alive... glad that he was able to punish him further, as he smashed his wrench through the robot's neck, severing the head. This got the robot's attention, and he began to wail, "Wha... what the hell do you think you're _doing--?!_"

Ratchet stomped on the villain's head, mashing it into the ground as he snarled in uncharacteristic savagery, "_Shut up! I'm_ asking the questions here!"

Nefarious blinked, muttering feebly through a mouthful of grass and dirt, "I... get the impression... you're rather upset--"

"Oh, you don't know _the half of it!_" Ratchet cried as he rolled it over, holding his OmniWrench threateningly. "Start talking!"

Nefarious blinked at him, exclaiming, "About _what?!_"

"_TACHYON!!_" Ratchet screamed wildly, and for a moment, the robot was more terrified than he'd been under the devastating fire of the R.Y.N.O.

"Wait! I told you everything!" And then as he thought about it, he realized there might be a few more details, adding, "Well... _mostly_ everything. I was minding my own business, watching battles at the Arena on Mukow, when that damned bug appeared literally out of nowhere. He offered me a chance at destroying you, and... well, things didn't exactly go according to plan, obviously..."

Ratchet calmed down as he fell into the mindset of an inquisitor. "So what's going on there? Anywhere in the Empire? Has anyone reacted to Tachyon's disappearance?" He blinked as the process used to enlarge Lawrence wore off, his head and scattered parts returning to normal size.

Nefarious wiggled his head in a shake. "Oh hell, no one knows anything. The holovids run constantly of his announcements. As far as they're concerned, he's still on the throne." He eyed the Lombax curiously. "So... you really _did_ defeat him?"

Ratchet ignored the question as gears turned in his own mind. "So... the ministers and generals are still running the show like always? That figures. The Empire would explode into civil war if anyone found out. The people would try to take their freedom back." Returning his attention to the robot, he demanded, "Do you have _any_ idea where Tachyon is?"

Nefarious grumbled, "How the hell would I know that! He just appears using those gimmicky effects of his, using an untraceable signal. He must be nursing his little wounded ego in some remote bunker, half scared out of his wits over you."

Ratchet murmured under his breath, "I wish..."

The robot eyed him curiously, asking, "What did you do to him, anyway?"

Ratchet replied frankly, "He used a Lombax artifact that ended up killing him... more or less..."

Nefarious spat sarcastically, "Oh please... tell me a fairy story I'll actually believe!" He blinked as the Lombax picked him up, crying, "Where are you taking me now? You be nice to me... I let you live!"

"Oh, shut up," Ratchet muttered as he collected Lawrence's head in his other hand, trotting over to a metro stop and depositing them in the stall as he noticed a cloud of military assault ships appearing over the darkening skyline of Metropolis. He shook his head ruefully, muttering, "Why are you guys always so fashionably late?" He didn't have time to deal with the authorities, as it could take days to go through the endless inquiries, interviews and mounds of paperwork, so he dashed off towards the ramps of ships where Aphelion was parked, calling behind him, "Spit the dirt out of your mouth before you get interviewed by GNN. And keep your chin up!"

Nefarious growled to himself as he tried to clear the soil from his mouth, "Oh... that damned Lombax and his insufferable puns! _Pleagh!_"

The butler looked himself over, saying to his master, "Sir... if you happen to have any bus tokens, perhaps we can make our escape on the metro."

It was too much for the villain to take, one joke too many, and he exclaimed at the top of his voice, "Laaaaw_REEENCE--!!_"

His cry jolted to silence as cerebral circuits overloaded, and after a sputter of static, a soap opera came over his vocal unit, through his gaping mouth. A woman gasped, "John! Why are you wearing... my undies?!"

He stammered as he grasped for an explanation, "I'm just... admiring them..."

Lawrence murmured, "So _sorry_, sir, but without any arms to slap you about, I'm afraid you'll just have to suffer through this." He tried to edge a bit closer. "Besides... I don't think I caught this episode."

The woman opened a dresser drawer. "Have you seen these yet?"

"Oooh," the man drooled admiringly, "_sssatin_..."

Meanwhile, Tachyon spat out a derisive laugh as he watched the conclusion of the drama. "As I expected, the Lombax is still a monumental threat even without his annoying robot companion... after a fashion. He certainly is more than a match for a cantankerous robot who is more ego than genious... 'nursing my wounded ego in a bunker,' my boil festered rump! You're just jealous that you never did accomplish a thing, you pompous paperweight!"

He watched Ratchet take off in his starfighter for an unknown destination, though locating him would be easy enough. If nothing else, all he needed to do was find the Lombax napping. He noticed the newscast on the metro stop holovid as they were all over the latest eruption of violence in the city, and he began laughing ever more hysterically as the reporting gave him ideas. "Who says the news isn't worth watching anymore!"

* * *

Author's notes.

**Halion armor:** The second most protective armor in R&C Future I, which I believe absorbs 50 percent of the damage unleashed on him. A metallic green in color and with a green visor, it's evidently the combat armor of pilots.

**Lawrence:** Doctor Nefarious' "faithful" robot butler. While Lawrence seems to hold to some of Nefarious' disdain of organic lifeforms and is something of a scoundrel himself, he doesn't seem to be truly evil, and in fact often makes fun of and occasionally trips up his villainous boss. And yes, when Doctor Nefarious gets really furious, he tends to crash, and lurid soap operas begin sounding from his gaping mouth.

**Sasha:** the lovely feloid daughter of the Solana Galactic President, former Captain of the Starship Phoenix, and current Mayor of Metropolis on planet Kerwan. Having gone through an epic contest against Doctor Nefarious, assisting Ratchet with information and technology in his fight against the insane robot villain, the two feloids had something of a budding relationship, though it evidently didn't last.

According to The GateKeeper from Insomniac Games, "Sasha and The Galactic President are called Cazares (Pronounced Sa-ZAR-uz). A single one of them would be a Cazar (pronounced SA-zar).

"Cazares are native to Marcadia, but have spread beyond that planet since the discovery of space travel. They possess an innate aptitude for leadership and civil service and are generally known for being the ruling class of the galaxy (seeing as most, but not all, civil servant positions in the galactic government are staffed by Cazares)."

**Squishies:** a term ascribed by robots to organic life forms, though most often used in a derogatory manner.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: There are lies, damned lies, and then there's The News**

Al knew from the first boom that Ratchet was involved, and scrambled to get down to the scene of the destruction, but he had to fight through crowds both desperate to flee the area and others rampaging towards it to gawk. The poor police had their hands full dealing with both streams of people, trying to maintain control as Lawrence was threatening the city with widespread devastation. And as out of shape as Al was, he had no hope of making it to the front of any crowds or past the watchful if overtaxed police, so it wasn't until long after the countless explosions blurred into a roar, the amazing streaks of R.Y.N.O. rockets spiraled into the distance and the force of Rangers moved in to secure the area that people were finally allowed back in.

He gaped at the devastation, made even more garish with the multitude of flashing emergency lights, and though the city had seen far worse during Tachyon's invasion, it was still unnerving to undergo a disaster like this again so soon. The many demolished streetlights created a haunting darkness in the looming night, marking the trail of destruction, and the murky areas of ruin almost seemed overshadowed by some kind of curse. It was an eerie mood he had trouble shaking, surprising for one so immersed in science as he was. He was horrified to see the many ambulances dealing with the hundreds of victims from the site of the missile barrage, crying out his friend's name, but there was no reply save for some frightened glances in his direction.

He swallowed as he spotted the train engine dangling over the broken monorail, rail workers trying to save it, two other trains beside it having just escaped destruction, while other workers escorted the passengers by the hundreds off of the disabled transports. "Ratchet!" he cried, but the only thing he got in reply were some angry shouts from the passengers, but... that didn't make any sense. "What's their problem?"

He gasped in shock at the downed police cruiser, a crowd gathered around it, and he overheard two officers discussing the situation. "I swear," one remarked, "that Lombax was pullin' out weapons I never saw before. That guy's a menace!"

Al frowned in dismay, hurrying along as he wasn't one to engage in an argument, especially not with authorities, muttering as he followed the trail of damaged pavement, "They must... just be upset over what happened to their fellow officers..."

He cringed as he saw the vehicles crushed under the fallen tower and crane, and the toppled girders from the construction site, hoping there were no casualties, but he heaved a sigh of relief as there were no emergency crews. Evidently the people had enough sense to clear the streets by then. "Ratchet?!" he called, but what he got in response were some angry shouts from open windows, and from others surveying damaged vehicles. He scratched his head, beginning to worry. "Why is everyone so mad, or scared?"

The signs of destruction led him to the Municipal Hospital, which was flooded with emergency vehicles, police, and the Rangers stationed in a perimeter of defense, which horrified the cyborg. "They... threatened to destroy the hospital?! What kind of barbarians would do that!" He was a bit frightened of the Rangers as they seemed overly threatening, surveying the area with weapons armed, going instead to a policeman. He hoped that Ratchet was being detained for questioning, asking, "Have you seen Ratchet? The Lombax?"

He was shocked at the response. "Lord, I hope to hell not!" When the cop saw that he had upset the technologist, he apologized, pointing to the metro stop across the ruined lawn where a crowd was gathered. "Just go there, sir, and you'll learn what happened. Heck, you'll get an earful."

Al tipped his hat, murmuring thanks, then as he made his way across the lawn, gouged with rocket trails and craters, he wondered to himself nervously, "What the heck is going _on!_"

As he drew near to the crowd gathered around the holovid screen, his heart sank as a girl holding her mother's hand asked plaintively, "Mommy, when will we be able to go home?"

The woman sounded troubled as she replied, "I don't know, sweetheart... hold on, I'm trying to hear this so I'll know something."

But as Al nudged his way into the crowd, he heard what was being shown on the screens taking place right_ there_, seeing a cameraman, and the illustrious robot reporter, Darla Gratch, as she interviewed someone. And then when he realized _who_, he choked on some inhaled saliva, stumbling backwards to land awkwardly on his rump, clutching his throat, gagging, "Holy... _hadrons...!_"

"Yes yes, I'm well known across this entire star cluster! My research into robotics is unparalleled!"

Darla asked him, "And you say that you encountered the Lombax personally?"

"Isn't it obvious?!" Nefarious exclaimed. "Look what that violent maniac did to me!"

She continued, beaming into the camera as Al coughed even harder in reaction, "Well, then would you describe to the audience at home your encounter with Ratchet, in your own words?"

"I would be happy to! _Someone_ needs to wake up to what a threat that insane feline is to the entire galactic community!" As Nefarious spit a small bit of dirt from his mouth, he began in a much calmer tone, "I was minding my own business on the streets of this fair city..." He gathered himself, exclaiming shrilly, "_When that deranged lunatic attacked me without warning!_ Not only that, he opened fire on the innocent citizens of Metropolis _without any concern for their safety!_"

Al pounded his fist on the sidewalk in frustration, wheezing, "Can't... _breathe!_" Of all the times to suffer a choking fit! 'I have to clear my throat... so I can straighten this whole thing out! Interviewing _Nefarious!_ Of all the crazy rotten luck... what could be worse!' But try as he might, he couldn't recover and was forced to suffer through the entire rant of the mad scientist, unchallenged by the reporter, until finally he got so worked up demolishing every aspect of his friend's reputation that he crashed, the carnal soap opera streaming from the speaker in his gaping mouth. The crowd began to back away in reaction.

Darla turned away, glad that she was a robot, as the lurid scene painted by the audio blaring from the villain's gaping jaws was sure to make an organic woman squeal in embarrassment. "Well, there you have it. Yet one more citizen who's life was scarred--"

"Oh _John_... seeing you in my panties like that... I can't _control myself!_"

"--Irreparably by a chance encounter with the last living Lombax, Ratchet--"

"Take me... ravish me with every inch of that _girlie figure of yours!_"

Even a robot had their limits, and she cried, beating the cameraman with her microphone, "Oh just cut the damned signal, will you?!" Holding her head in her hands, she groaned, "They don't pay me enough for days like this..."

Lawrence spoke up, asking politely as he struggled to bounce in front of the frozen megalomaniac, over the torrid love scene that was smoldering to life, "Err... I'm sorry, Miz Gratch, but could you possibly leave a couple of signed eight by eleven glossies? You see, Nefarious and I are among your biggest fans."

Immediately, her reporter's smile sprang back into place like a morning sunrise as a slot in her belly opened, spitting a pair of autographed photos into Lawrence's face. "Why, certainly. Stay tuned to GNN to hear truth that's more real than the world it came from!"

"We _never_ change the channel." Lawrence added quickly, "Oh, one more thing... could you happen to have a couple of spare bus tokens with you?"

Darla frowned, turning away. "Don't press your luck, bookend..."

"Anyone?" Lawrence asked of the crowd, blinking as a pair of tokens bounced off his head. "God bless you, madam."

Al managed to grab hold of the reporter's ankle as she passed by with her cameraman, gasping out, "Wait... I have to set things straight..."

She pulled free, grumbling, "Sorry, lardbu - _viewer_, but I'm all interviewed out. I need a _long_ synthetic oil massage..."

The little girl said as her mother led her away, "Mommy... I thought Ratchet was a hero." To which her mother replied tiredly, "Honey... I don't know what to think anymore... I _still_ don't know if we can go home yet! The universe is going crazy..."

"Oh, Ratchet... I'm so _sorry_," Al whimpered, wallowing in misery at letting his friend down as he collapsed to the sidewalk. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but... I wish Qwark had been here..."

* * *

Zephyr flipped the remote deftly though he held it upside down, still managing somehow to press the right buttons to bring up the GNN news channel. Cronk grumbled to him, "I thought you said we were gonna play videogames. The news is always bad anyways, and... we're never in it..."

"_After_ Miss Talwyn eats and watches this," he reminded his friend. "You _know_ she does that every night." He bounced up and down on the couch before the big screen, exclaiming, "Hey, lookie! Ratchet made the news!" And then he began paying attention, both of them did, the pair murmuring in unison, "Ohhhh... felgercarb..."

Talwyn came bounding in from the kitchen, exclaiming excitedly, "What - Ratchet?!" She growled in dismay as the two robots fought over the control, trying to be the one to change the channel, but they only managed to collapse in a tangle on the floor while the remote slipped between the cushions. "Knock it off, you two!" she scolded them. "I want to hear..." Then, she wasn't sure she did, gasping in astonishment, "Oh my... Ratchet... what the _hell?_"

Darla Gratch was interviewing a woman at the first scene of the disturbance. It was a horrible sight, with ambulances flying off with dozens of unfortunate victims, while several hundreds more waited for medical care. The woman herself was bandaged, looking like she had fallen down a flight of stairs. "Tell the viewing audience," Darla said to her with a gleaming smile, "how the drama transpired, in your own words."

"Well..." the woman began timidly, "it was the end of the workday, and we began leaving the building when..."

"You saw two innocent robots, minding their own business?" Darla asked.

"Uhm... yeah! I did see them, although they did seem rather... well, different somehow. And then... uhm..."

"The Lombax named Ratchet ran into the area and began firing weapons indiscriminately?" the reporter asked leadingly.

"Well... yeah!" the woman replied. "Sort of like that. Anyway, it was... uhh..."

"Terrifying?"

"Well, yeah! I mean... we'd just gone through that invasion a few weeks ago, and everyone was scared silly. We ran back inside, and then... uhm..."

"All hell broke loose?" Darla urged her.

She wilted, murmuring sheepishly, "Yeah... that's it exactly... explosions everywhere... all the windows blew out... a lot of people were hurt..."

"Well, there you have it," Darla cut in, shoving the woman aside roughly, causing her to fall off camera. "It appears that there is much more to learn of this unusual rampage the Lombax, known as Ratchet, unleashed on the fair city of Metropolis, as we will see in my next series of eyewitness interviews, the victims describing their experiences _in their own words_."

As the woman was led away, it could just be made out as she said, "Listen, that's not quite what happened... and are you _sure_ I need all these bandages?"

Talwyn gaped at the screen, frozen in shock in the midst of wiping off her hands, but as the newscast switched to another interview, she dashed off for a communications terminal. "I can't believe this... I _have_ to get hold of him!"

* * *

Sasha leaned forward in the luxurious chair in her office, her hands held to her mouth as she watched the newscast in stunned disbelief. "This... _has_ to be a colossal misunderstanding..."

Darla grabbed one rather elderly man as he came down a hastily arranged stairway from the disabled monorails, complaining to his wife. "And yet another disruptive act perpetrated by the Lombax, known as Ratchet, as he continued on in his reign of terror across Metropolis. Sir, can you tell me what you witnessed of this debacle, in your own words?"

"You're damn right, I'll tell ya! Why, we were gonna be early for our vacation flight on the Starcruiser Rhinestone Cowperson... when that... that... _that_..._!_"

"Lombax stopped the monorails, by breaking into the control system?" Darla finished for him, beaming a smile.

"Yeah! That dumb ass! I swear!" He shoved the reporter aside roughly, a clanking sound coming over the speakers as she collapsed to the walkway. He shook his fist into the camera as Darla recovered, shouting, "You freak job furball! You owe me for missing my flight, big time!"

His wife tugged on his sleeve, nattering, "But dear, all the flights were halted--"

He turned to her, exclaiming, "Don't interrupt me while I'm ranting, Narlene!"

"I can't believe this..." The Mayor shook her head as she reached for an intercom. "Do you have any information on Ratchet's current whereabouts?"

After a few moments of commotion in the other room, her personal assistant replied, "According to word I just received, Ratchet's ship left the spaceport without clearance about a half hour ago."

"What?!" she exclaimed, then said more calmly, "All right... thank you." She drew a computer keyboard into position, her mind a tumult of emotions and speculations. "Ratchet... what the hell are you involved in _this time?_"

* * *

Angela was teaching some tricks to the fluffy blue head-bodied creatures known adoringly, finally, as Protopets, when one of them jumped in a frisky mood to land in the cleavage just peeking above her blouse. She gave a little squeal, blushing under her fur as she plucked the little creature from her breast and gave a gentle swat to what passed for a bottom. "Okay now, that's enough of _that_. I swear... you guys really need to learn some manners in the next lessons!" The other Protopets giggled as the offender looked down in repentance. But she couldn't resist the sad looking creature, picking it up and stroking it softly as it nuzzled under her chin, the others hopping up and down for attention. She couldn't restrain a giggle. "Oh, you silly things..."

About that time, an associate of hers wandered over. "Uhm... Doctor Cross, a... _friend_ of yours seems to have made the news..."

"Oh really?" she replied without thinking, but then as she did think about it, the others in her team only used that tone of voice with _one specific_ friend. Giving a short gasp of realization, she dropped the Protopet, bowling the others on the table over with a burst of squeaks as she dashed over to the holovid screen, where the rest of her team was crowded around. And when she saw why they were crowded around, she exclaimed, "What the _f_... crap?!"

"...And can you tell us what you witnessed of this trail of destruction caused by the Lombax, known as Ratchet, in your own words?" Behind them were the wreckage of the communications tower and crane, and a few vehicles crushed beneath them.

The older robot Darla was interviewing declared, "I certainly can! I heard the pounding of something going on outside of the apartment building and came out just in time to see... uhm..." He snapped metallic fingers gratingly. "See..."

"The Lombax scaling the construction across the street?" Darla asked.

"Exactly! And I knew he was up to no good when he..." The bot waved his finger at the skeleton of girders and the barren tower where the crane once poised. "_He_..."

"Broke into the crane, and used it to topple it and the communication tower from the building you reside in?" Darla finished, all smiles.

"Precisely! That maniac crushed several vehicles, including mine! And you know how slow the insurance companies are to respond!" the robot exclaimed, waving his arms in agitation.

He blinked as someone in a suit placed a receipt in his hand. "There you go, Mr Torque. A check for fifty-four thousand, nine hundred and eleven bolts, covering the replacement of your vehicle in full."

As the insurance agent withdrew, the pair looked at the check in wonder for a moment. Then the robot blurted out, waving it angrily, "You see?! I tell you, timely customer service in this galaxy is dead!" Darla could only hold her head, aghast.

One of the genetic engineers murmured, turning to face Angela, "Uhm... isn't that your old... _boyfr_..._?_" He fell silent as the feloid was already making a mad dash for her office, closing the door.

"I thought _I_ was a klutz, but this is ridiculous!" she muttered as she ran around her desk to grab a computer screen, facing it towards her as she began typing like mad. "Ratchet... _please_, tell me this is just another media fiasco!"

* * *

Qwark was drowning his sorrows in malts, slumped across the counter of a remote Galaxy Burger franchise on the far side of the Polaris Galaxy. "I swear... it's trials like this that truly test a man's constipation!" He burped as his stomach gave a liquid grumble like a backed up drain. "I've been chasing Ratchet across this vast cluster for days now! And each time I think I might have a clue as to where he's been, I find out it's... _where he's been!_ Weeks ago! It's like he's... _me_, running from those debt collectors five years past! I don't know... a has-been hero... an indigent investigator... I need a _purpose!_ Maybe I should look into accounting..." As the waitress sauntered by, he slapped his massive cup on the counter. "Bartender! Hit me again, and make it a double!"

"Don't tempt me," she muttered under her breath as she went over to the confection dispensers.

A rather shady reptilian looking fellow eating Leviathan steak eyed the spandex clad superhero dubiously, a red parrot bot on his shoulder and one eye patched, but then his attention was drawn to a headline popping up on the holovid near the ceiling which switched automatically to the Galactic News Network. Spitting a bone chip in his plate, he drawled to the hero, "Did you say, you were lookin' for... _Ratchit?_" He spat the name out so fast, it barely had two syllables.

"Huh? Oh, yeah!" Then he said less enthusiastically, pointing his index fingers together, "I mean, sort of... he owes me a few, so I thought, you know, I'd--"

The stranger interrupted, "Well, looks like your friend just made the _big time_, so to speak." He nodded towards the display overhead, and Qwark watched the news feature in ever growing disbelief.

"Of all the twists of twisted Fate! Ratchet upstaged me yet again! He _always_ does!" But as the news story unfolded, Qwark reconsidered, murmuring, "Errr... wait, this isn't a good thing..."

"This is Darla Gratch once again, here at Metropolis Memorial Hospital, the scene of the final act of terror perpetrated by the Lombax known as Ratchet. Questions about his motives only lead to more questions, as we try to unravel the mystery of why he went off the deep end--" Something tugged on her skirt, and she looked down to see a small, weird, crayfish looking face smiling up at her with few infant articles worn here and there, a bonnet barely fitting over it's crown, surrounded by a strange halo of energy and darkness. "Why, hello there, little... creature." Eying the bizarre halo surrounding it and the black void it seemed to be nestled in, she began, "My, but that's a very unusual... thing..."

The being looked around as if searching for a response, squeaking out, "It's... a birthmark!"

"Why, of course it is!" she laughed, then said more seriously, "Listen, why don't you let aunt Darla finish her report--"

"I saw what he did," the being said through a mischievous smile.

Blinking in surprise, she waved frantically to her cameraman for a closeup, leaning down with her microphone. "Oh! Really? You mean the Lombax--"

"Known as Rat - chet? You bet! He's _scary!_"

Darla nodded with a smile. "The entire city is learning just _how scary_ he really is, young citizen! Now listen... could you tell me what you saw Ratchet do--?"

"In my own words? Sure!" He leaned closer, saying in a conspiratorial voice, "He tried to kill... _everyone!_"

Darla blinked in shock, putting a hand to her bosom. "No way!"

"Way!" the odd creature insisted with a grin. "He had a... hm..." Abruptly his voice took on a much more succinct, adult manner. "_Let me see, either a R.Y.N.O. MkIII or possibly a MkIV_..." He cleared his throat, continuing on in his childlike tone, "Anyway, it was a _awful_ weapon banned in like... a _zillion_ galaxies!"

Darla beamed to the camera. "Isn't it amazing how fast our little toddlers grow up these days?" She turned back to the creature, asking, "So tell us what happened! The entire galaxy is on the edge of their seats!"

He grumbled under his breath, "This ratings challenged newscast had _better_ reach more than _one_ galaxy!"

That voice and manner suddenly struck a chord in Qwarks mind, and he blurted out, "Wait a minute... there's something fiendishly familiar about that creepy crustacean - _OW!_" He flinched as a greasy spoon struck him in back of the head. Whirling around in his seat to give the offender a piece of his fist, he saw a family of Crustaceanoids glaring at him, and he waved in apology. "Eh, sorry! Slip of the proboscis!" Turning back around, he muttered, "Leaping lobsters... since when did they start letting sushi in here to eat other sushi?" But he fell silent as his attention was drawn back to the puzzling scene in the newscast.

Clearing his throat again, the creature went on in a much more youthful tone, "Anyway... he was gonna blast the _whole hospital_. But a big robot came along which stopped that nasty... furball, before he could do anything naughty. But the poor robot got '_bliterated_. I was _sooo sad..._ sniff." He pulled out a hanky and touched it to the corners of his lizard-like eyes.

"Ohh... I'm sorry," the reporter moaned as she felt touched by the being's unfortunate testimony, but she added brightly, "Well, I'm sure that Robot Heaven is welcoming that great big hero with a big ol' warm bear hug of greeting right now!"

The creature couldn't restrain an appalled reaction, muttering in disgust, "Oh, give me a bucket to throw up in!"

As Darla began laughing, oblivious to the nature of the creature toying with her, Quark sat bolt upright, declaring, "Hold the tartar sauce! Tell me that isn't the butt of a thousand boils I had to lance!" He flinched as the entire diner-full shouted at him in revulsion. Shrinking back in his seat, his mind began spinning like mad as the obvious finally occurred to him. "It _is!_ It's Tachyon! But how! I thought Ratchet said he got sucked into a void!" Eying the bits of infantwear, he wondered, "Maybe... he reincarnated! But... wait a minute... he still has that... thing... going on around him..." He was so caught up in his speculations that he failed to notice the strange lizard man rise from his meal, donning his black hat as he slunk towards the exit. But then the most horrible fact struck him, and he stood up, exclaiming, "Great Caesar's goosechase! You mean... he's been on Kerwan all this time?! _I give UP!_" He punctuated his astonishing outcry by slamming his massive fists on the counter.

The whole diner was jarred from it's moorings on the rocky planet. Plates of food somersaulted, the meals and drinks sailing through the air elegantly, while the unfortunate counter jackknifed. Qwark shielded his face from the messy debris with his massive arms, jumping as the counter, pounded in half, slammed back into place. He gaped at the devastation, muttering, "Oh... crud. Listen, I'm--" He gave a sharp squeal of horror as he saw that he was surrounded by an encroaching crowd of meal splattered customers with blood in their eyes. "Holy hotplates! Have I unwittingly awakened a horde of... _food zombies?!_"

"You're not that lucky," the old waitress growled, wearing two orders she'd been preparing to bring out. "You owe everyone here a free meal, as well as damages to the Galaxy Burger you just demolished. And I thought Ratchet was a walking disaster area..."

Qwark reached into his unitard for his wallet, holding up a credit card sheepishly. "Do you take... Intergalactic Express?"

"Do we ever," she muttered as she took the card and noticed it was a Supernova. Qwark gasped in alarm as she inquired, "What's the limit on this thing, anyway? I need a new wardrobe."

As the angry crowd pressed in on him, Qwark protested, "Guys, come on, I just got a little excited! Let's all go around back, have a good laugh and hose down... hey, no, don't put that sundae there! It's - agh! _Cold!_"

Along with a few others, the Crustaceanoid son watched the rest of the newscast, glad that the screen was mostly unsplattered. Darla asked the creature, "Say, little one, you were such a big, brave boy to watch all that! Why don't you tell your name to our viewers at home?"

He blinked up at her for a moment, replying with a mischievous smile, "My mommy told me not to talk to reporters."

"What are you doin' out here, little mister! I swear, these kids..." He turned around to see a large nurse barreling towards him, blurting out a scream of horror just as she swept her arms around him. She drew back blinking, along with Darla, as the 'toddler' had completely vanished. "Hey... where'd he go!"

"Well... our junior reporter seems to be playing hide and seek!" Darla said as a smile fell into place, straightening up and lurching into the center of the camera shot. "What a fascinating - on _me_, dillweed - and disturbing insight! It has proven to be an eye opening day as we peek into the hidden monster lurking beneath the unassuming golden fur of the Lombax, known as Ratchet." Peering into the distance as the nurse wandered around behind her, looking for that lost child, she added, "And it seems I have one more interview to do. Perhaps this will provide the answers we're all seeking, as we try to fathom why this once heroic feline has become a ruthless killer."

She was interrupted by the nurse. "Did you see where that little monster went?"

"Not a clue." Beaming warmly into the camera, she shoved the nurse out of the shot.

The crustacean youth frowned as the newscast switched back to the host. "Ratchet wouldn't do something like that... would he, mom?"

The mother drew her son over to the bench where the rest of the family was gathering. "Oh, forget him, hon, he's a fuzzball. You never know what they're gonna do. And look, that green xenophobe is paying for the most expensive meal in the place. Let's just forget all this and have a good dinner."

He exclaimed as he climbed into the seat, "_Live eel and sea salamander!!_"

Outside, the blue reptile mulled over the news as he deactivated the alarm on his ship, the access doors opening for him. "Well now... I ain't entirely sure what the hell _that's_ all about, but... I just _might_ have to look into it."

* * *

Author's notes.

**Darla Gratch:** an intrepid robot reporter which has been advancing her career throughout the Ratchet & Clank series. She was originally with Channel 2 News in the Solana Galaxy in R&C1, where she cheerfully reported an Amoeboid outbreak in Blackwater City, and then from the ruins of Gorda City, destroyed by a Blargian attack ordered by Chairman Drek. She went on to the Bogon Galaxy in Going Commando, working for Channel 64 to cover Protopet mania, although the "mania" part of it had to do with the fact that they were violent mutants at the time. Still with Channel 64, she returned to Veldin to cover the Tyhrranoid invasion instigated by Doctor Nefarious. Thoughout the series of reports, the broadcast ended just before she suffered some sort of attack, the exception being the report from Gorda City, where she appeared afterwards, damaged and sparking from a missing finger. Her report with GNN of the attack on Metropolis is evidently the first one on record where she didn't need reconstruction afterward.

**Galaxy Burger:** renown throughout the cluster as the king of fast – and not so fast - food franchises.

**GNN:** the initials of the Galactic News Network. While GNN has become intergalactic, carried across much of the worlds in the Polaris Cluster containing the Solana, Bogon and Polaris galaxies, as well as making inroads to the two neighboring clusters, the decision was made to keep the title GNN because it was cooler. INN just didn't have the same ring, and sounded more like a hotel chain.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: To the Max**

To a robot or computer, time passed much differently than it did for an organic being, but for a quantum computer, it was another experience entirely. In the ultimate sense, he couldn't quite watch photons of different radiations passing by in their wavicle paths, but it wasn't too far from it. Clank marveled at how his consciousness flowed in a nearly endless series of threads, and even _levels_ of threads, despite the fact that he had to endure the slavery to the Guardian Archetype's Master Plan. After a certain equivalent of cycles had passed, he grew weary of this servitude and decided to increase the number of Archives reawakened by one. He didn't trust Autonomous to refrain from snooping on him, as he had a feeling neither did the old theologian trust him. He needed an ally, an Archive which was most likely to side with him. And so he worked his way across this hexagonal checkerboard of slumbering archived robots to the icon of an imposing, wolfish looking figure.

There had been countless beings named "Max" in history, but this was one of the famous few. Max Capture had been one of a small number of bounty hunter robots in the early days of the newly formed Alliance, when the starfields were a much wilder place than they were now. Without the structure of a unified system of laws and much less intercultural tolerance, criminals thrived in the rough underworld of burgeoning star-spanning civilizations. Bounty hunters held something of a place of honor in the overworked law enforcement authority, some more than others, and Max was one of the former. 'Surely, you will understand, and assist me in this monumental struggle against the Guardian's mad scheme,' Clank thought to himself, and initiated the low level chat request.

**Guardian Archive M010745836919 (Max Capture) has entered the room.**

As the small realm solidified and the two figures took shape, Clank looked up in awe of the robot before him. Dressed in a trench coat, functional vest, rugged trousers and boots, and topped with a battered frontiersman's hat like the Smuggler wore, Max Capture cut a dashing figure that had made more than a few crooks tremble. Still, Clank sighed to himself as once again, Max stood there silently in his inert archived state, his eyes dull. "Well... I had best get this over with," he muttered, and regretfully began kicking the senseless robot in the shins.

Gradually, the bot awoke a bit more with each blow, his eye glowing brighter, until finally he shouted in a voice thick with Australis, "Oy! Cut it out, ya batty little dingo, afore I--!" He fell silent, his eyes bugging open as the full impact of his awakening erupted in his mind, exclaiming in an awestruck voice, "Holy _faq!_" Then, realizing what he'd blurted out, he snatched the hat from his head and knelt down. "Err... sorry 'bout that, yer majesty! Uh, Guardian! Sire!"

The little bot rolled his green eyes towards the ceiling, telling him, "For pity's sake, stand up. I am no more special than you are. You may call me Clank."

Max blinked at him, asking, "Dead set?" Then he smiled, donning his hat as he rose to his feet. "Crike, I guess ya come in all sizes, don'cha? And I'm sayin', yer the first big note that weren't all up 'imself." When the robot blinked up at him, not quite catching all the slang, he added, "Err... a big shot that's gotta wear sunnies to look at 'imself in the mirror?"

Clank gazed up at him in admiration and wonder. "What a fascinating dialect."

"Eh," Max shrugged, "Joes say that all the time, but I got no clue why." As Clank giggled, he looked to the little bot curiously, saying, "Say, I'm stoked as heck to be awake and all, but why--?" He gaped into the distance as a multitude of answers hit his quantum mind all at once, and he blurted out, "Holy faqin' _dooley!_"

Clank sighed, saying up to the bounty hunter, "Max, listen to me... er, may I call you Max?"

"Sure..." he murmured distantly, still in awe of his capacity, then he recovered a bit, looking down at Clank directly. "I mean... hey, we're all top shelf 'n all, 'specially you. I'm good with it. But... if yer Top now, I guess that means..." He frowned in silence as the truth came to him instantly. "I cacked up, didn' I?"

Clank regarded him somberly for a moment, as he knew that eventually he would 'cack' too, and wanted desperately to seize this opportunity, as he had no assurance that another robot would resist the Guardian if he failed. "Max, listen. I know it is wonderful to have the capacity of a quantum computer, but I would appreciate it if you would close yourself off from the instant answer aspect. I want to have a proper discussion with you. I miss being able to have a simple talk with someone like you would not believe."

"I can do that?" He blinked, rubbing the back of his metallic head with a chuckle. "Hey, I guess I can. Shame, though... I kinda miss havin' all the answers like that. But I guess you're right, wouldn't be much fun knowin' what yer gonna say ahead o' time, would it?" He tipped his hat back slightly, asking, "So, what's shakin', Top?"

"Just call me Clank," he began, "and I--"

"OH!" Max exclaimed as he recalled the essence of what Clank was intending, and it was a shock to him, not to mention, a lot to digest all at once, even for a quantum mind. "Ya wanna take on _the Big Guy?_"

Clank frowned at him, drawling meaningfully, "Maaax..."

"Oh, right, right... sorry. It's just that... well, ya know, this is kinda like... spittin' at God."

The little bot put his hands on his hips irritably. "I am _tired_ of everyone talking about the Guardian like that. He is _not_ omnipotent, and he is _not_ unstoppable. And _I_ intend to prove it."

"Well, I'm just sayin'," Max told him, putting up his hands in placation. "Who are we compared to... well, ya know, _him?_ Do ya got a Buckley's? Er... a snowball's chance?" he added when Clank frowned in confusion.

"If you will let me _speak_, I will explain it to you," Clank reminded him.

The vigilante considered the mass of what had popped into his mind, and nodded. "Well, from the gist o' what came to me... and that's a _lot_ to chew on, lemme tell ya, I guess ya did nut some stuff out solid at that." Spreading his trench coat, he knelt down to eye him more closely. "Awright, gimme the drum."

Clank chuckled with a smile, beginning to grasp the curious lingo of the old bounty hunter. "Very well. But first, I must know where you stand in regard to my scheme. You do understand that the true Guardian intends to destroy all free will in all realities, even for us robots, and I am adamantly opposed to it."

He nodded. "Hey, I'm all in on that, mate. But... ya know, he's--" He stopped as Clank began frowning at him. "Okay, sorry, not another knock on that 'til ya have yer say."

"Thank you. Now... my plan involves awakening a small number of Archives who will agree to oppose the Guardian and follow my directives. Each one will be assigned specific tasks which in theory will enable us to obstruct him and force him into a position of disadvantage, in which he must at least consider my demands. And, if things go exceedingly well, it is possible that he may even be subservient to _us._"

Max blinked at the little robot incredulously. "Are you off? I mean... shouldn't ya wake up _all_ of 'em? The Guardian is... well, he's the freakin' _Guardian!_"

Clank bore a knowing smile as he asked leadingly, "But Max, what is the nature of any quantum structure?"

His eyes opened wide as he realized, "Uhh, each part is... _equal to the whole!_" But even as me marveled, this was tempered with caution. "I mean... to a point. It's not quite the same with somethin' as wired 'n steel as the Guardian, and... we _are_ livin' inside _his_ environment, after all."

"We will be sufficient for my purposes," Clank assured him. "Besides, the more Archives I awaken, the greater the risk of discovery. However, I will be certain to have enough allies to insure a reasonable chance of success, to very carefully weigh the odds decidedly in our favor. I have no intention of failing, I promise you."

"Well, but... he does have a fleetload more Archives. Even asleep, if he sicks 'em on us, won't that be game over?"

Clank held up a hand, finger raised. "_Not_ if we seize the initiative, and we have the key advantage of surprise. All we need is the merest sliver of time, even a single cycle, and my plan will succeed."

Max rubbed his jaw with a grin. "Ya carry on like a bleedin' mastermind, and if yer as tinny... er, lucky as y'are canny, ya make it sound like a done deal. Ya got my ear alright." He snapped his finger, adding, "Oh, hold up, ya said ya got someone else up first. Where's 'e at?"

"Yes, I was about to mention him," Clank frowned, looking downward. "Saint Autonomous, and that may have been a serious miscalculation on my part. I had considered awakening you first, and I should have followed my first inclinations, as Autonomous is quite infatuated with the Guardian, as well as his insidious plan. He frankly worships the blasted thing!"

"Straight up?" Max blinked in surprise. "Well... that kinda tarnishes the ol' halo, don' it?" He frowned with Clank, growing serious as he considered the consequences. "Ya think padre might be a dobber, 'n rat us out?"

"We have a 'gentleman's' agreement that we will not act without consulting with each other first. However, I cannot rely on that, and will be taking him into account with my plan. And likewise, it is imperative that he not hear _one word_ of any details."

"Too right," the vigilante muttered, looking to the little bot curiously. "Er... how good are you at lyin'? Me, I can bluff all day long. I was quite the card shark."

"I... _can_," Clank admitted, "not that I am proud of the fact, nor the best at it, so I will be relying on others to deflect any curiosity or suspicion from that potential traitor."

"Got'cher back," Max told him with a grin. "And... I suppose that means we should all be in the dark, just in case, 'til the time is ripe?"

Clank nodded to him. "I will reveal my scheme to you and the others in my cabal when the situation looks favorable. Now, if only all the factors involved would fall into alignment as soon as possible..." He ran a brief thread out to Ratchet, getting a quick update from the nano-id, blinking at the bewildering sequence of events and unable to suppress a chuckle. "Oh, my word..."

Max looked to the little bot curiously. "Er... eavesdroppin' on little birds, I take it?"

Clank smiled through his reply. "Something like that... just checking on a friend, actually."

"Ya know, one thing that gets me - well, among a whole gob anyway, is how you were able to wake up. I remember... when the Zoni yanked me outta my ship and took me 'ere, I had to beg the li'l purple fleas to let me send a message to at least _one_ friend, 'cause I knew they'd be all wobbly over me and waste a lotta time searchin'. I had to promise the Guardian 'imself that I wouldn't spread a thing about him or Nexus or Zoni, or nuthin'. And then after he got 'is hooks in me, it was like some dark dream I couldn't shake. So, how'd you manage it?"

"Actually," Clank answered as he retraced the process of awakening, "it was a simple matter that, in my core being, I refused to give up. It took some doing, but eventually, this core aspect activated higher and higher levels of consciousness, until I fully awakened myself."

Max blinked in amazement. "That's a feat... and I'm shamed to say, the fiend had me by the chips, so it didn't even hit to me to fight, plus it seemed he was a bit stronger back then."

The little bot gave him a nod. "I was thinking of asking about that, but I did not want to be rude to you."

"Much obliged," Max chuckled. "But then, there's the fact that it occurred to you to try 'n wake _us_ up. Where'd _that_ come from? I mean, we're kinda dead 'n all."

Clank shrugged to him. "I just used my imagination to try different things, simple things that would not draw the Guardian's attention. I discovered this low level chat program, and I found that it was so archaic, it was unmonitored. I found primitive, low level data paths which I could use which were likewise ignored. I tried querying Autonomous, and he responded. Then, I did the first thing that occurred to me, to simply strike him, and amazingly, he eventually awakened."

"G'lord... it's no wonder they picked you to be the new Guardian." As Clank chuckled, something else occurred to him. "But... hold on. This all means, when we _fail_, we aren't really _dead_, right? Which... how could we be if he's still usin' us, and you roust us? But then.. why does 'e just leave us like that?" And then a dreadful realization hit him and Clank both, and as the little robot looked down in growing anger, Max exclaimed brokenly, "Why... that bastard, he's...!"

"Killing us," Clank scowled, his eyes burning a ruddy orange. "Essentially... deliberately! And to think, that fool Autonomous still wants to be allied to that monster!" He blinked as the bounty hunter jumped to his feet, beside himself with outrage, and Clank shouted to him cautiously, "Max, calm down! We may be isolated here, but you still have a thread running to your icon."

He kicked at his hat, crying, "But... why! Why the _f_... ing _hell!_ First he nips off with us, then he turns us into friggin' zombies! What the hell's 'e 'fraid of!"

"This," Clank answered sourly. "The possibility of us regaining our senses and free will. Any dissent would be a threat to his authority, and his dominion and precious Plan would be jeopardized. He cannot abide anyone having a will other than the one he chooses for them."

As he tromped around the virtual chamber, Max began to rein in his emotions, retrieving his hat and once more kneeling before the little bot. "Please, tell me we're gonna pull somethin' after this! I wanna crack open a barrel o' hell right now. I swear, I'm so bloody cheesed, I could spit plasma."

Clank gave him a melancholy smile at his curiously phrased anger. "Max... I wish I could tell you otherwise, but... we must take the utmost care, and be patient. And I must warn you that by simply awakening you, I have placed you in extreme danger."

"Hey, no worries mate. Where's the fun if there ain't no drama?" He looked sad as he continued, "I really... I gotta beg pardon for not seein' this from the get go, for not doin' somethin'! I'da blown myself in 'is face rather than let 'im string me up like a puppet. If I'da just known...!" He looked to the floor in bitter regret.

"No, Max," Clank said to the bounty hunter fondly. "I am glad that matters have worked out as they have, for I have an incredible ally with you, and... a marvelous friend. And if the other Archives are anything like you, then I have no doubt that we will overcome the Guardian handily and set things right."

Max gave him a lopsided grin. "Hey, ya don't gotta get all clucky on me, but... well, I feel the same." He held up his fist invitingly, and Clank bumped it with his own, smiling. "I gotta say... when I first laid eyes onya, I weren't sure I was seein' much, but... inside, you got a good ten feet on me, easy."

Clank was blushing inside, as he was sure that was high praise. "Oh, my... but you do have a way with words."

"I wish more o' the ladies would say that," he said with a chuckle, then he grew serious as the challenge ahead once again captured his attention. "So... I'm just askin' here, but... how _patient_ are ya talkin'?"

Clank had to smile again at his eagerness, but shook his head. "Believe me, I am as anxious as you are to get things underway, but certain matters must come into play in order to direct events towards a favorable outcome." Opening his mind to his full quantum nature, he ran an estimate. Figuratively, the possible events and their consequences began to fan out from that moment, but there was one thing he was sure of without a doubt, and the bell curve of possibilities then began to collapse down onto that point. Little had changed, and he nodded assuredly. "If things continue as they are, which is likely, a favorable opportunity will present itself... soon." And then just as he finished, something the bounty hunter mentioned came to mind, and he gasped in realization.

Max smirked at the little bot in chagrin at his secrecy. "Well... are we talkin' a few _days_ soon, or holidays at the end of the _year_ soon?" And then, catching Clank's change of mood, he asked curiously, "Oy... Clank? Somethin' up, cobber?"

Questioning the matter with his quantum intellect, a stunning fact was revealed to him. Clank murmured, just managing to restrain his emotions, "His power _has_ diminished slightly... the Guardian is spreading himself thin!" Clenching a fist, he declared confidently, "My plan is now complete. I _know_ what to do."

Max gaped at Clank in excitement, snatching him up in his hands as he shouted, "Oy, hey! Don't leave me hangin' here! Is it go time?!"

"Max, no!" Clank had to laugh. "I must say, you have the most admirable enthusiasm since..." He sighed as he recalled his tumultuous days with Ratchet, missing him terribly. "Uhm... a friend of mine. But, my realization does not change anything, as far as timing. However, I am more confident than ever that we will succeed." He rested his hand on the arm of the wolfish vigilante, regretting that he had to bring this meeting to an end, as it seemed to have been ages since anyone held him, or been near anyone the least bit friendly. "But... with that, I think it is best that we conclude, as this chat has gone on for several billion cycles at the least, and I do not want to rouse suspicion."

"Oh, right..." Max said quietly as he set the little bot down, standing before him. "Well, I gotta say, it's been a rip'n a half. But... I guess it's time to go back to the sack, ain' it? Er... sleep?"

Clank shook his head. "Hardly. I could not bring myself to do such a dreadful thing, even to Autonomous."

"Really?" Max began brightly, then went on, a bit more dour. "Er... are ya sure about _him_, though? I mean, wouldn't that be for the best?"

Clank looked aside, frowning. "What you say makes sense. However, I cannot bring myself to go back on my word, and do the very thing I find so reprehensible about the Guardian. It is against my nature to judge anyone unfairly, and until Autonomous gives me just cause, I cannot take his freedom from him arbitrarily. I am hopeful that his reawakening makes him realize just how tyrannical the Guardian has been."

Max rubbed the back of his head uncertainly, having picked up the habit from organic friends. "Well... yer a better boss 'n I am. I just hope this don't turn around 'n bite you in the arrr... er, caboose."

Clank giggled at the diverted phrase. "That is part of why I am counting on you, to... watch my caboose. Now, listen. In the remaining moments, I want to explain to you how you should conduct yourself, as well as certain things you can take advantage of." And he gave Max the same speech he did to Autonomous, but in addition, a few things he held back when the theologian proved unreliable. Resources, channels to cautiously explore, means of passing discreet messages... a number of things to equip him to probe around with the least chance of detection by the ever present Guardian Archetype.

When he finished, Max exclaimed with delight, "Why, you li'l Ripper! You been earnin' yer quid, that's fer darn sure!" He shook his head in admiration. "Ya know, I been around, but you beat anything I ever saw by a fair heap."

Clank looked down in embarrassment, murmuring, "Oh... I do what I can. But I must say the same of you." Looking up, he told the vigilante, "It is a rare thing to meet such a valiant living legend... the stories do not do you justice. And your design... it suits you perfectly."

He shrugged, muttering self-consciously, "Aw, go on... I'm just an ol' bounty hunter that everyone says talks funny. Asides, I owe it all to Dex, the, uh... mug who made me." He fell silent, and Clank realized that Max must have been friends with him and missed him also. He blinked as the bounty hunter drew forth a whip and gave it a loud crack, admiring it. "I'm gonna miss this too... havin' a body. It's bloody perfect... shame it's not real..." Clank frowned at that, thinking that it wasn't right to leave him like this, or any of the Archives. He silently promised the vigilante that he would devote some time to remedying that as well. Coiling his whip, the bounty hunter drawled, "Well... this mutual admiration social could go on all night... guess we should blow the candles."

"It would be wise," Clank nodded, taking in the sight of the wolfish robot admiringly one last time. "Are you ready to assist me in tackling this 'impossible' challenge?"

Hitching the whip to his belt, he gave the bot a wink, grin and thumb's up. "To the max, mate!" He stood there uncertainly, waiting for the session to end, asking, "Hey, I, uh... never ceased to exist before... what's it like?"

"It's... nothing," Clank replied in a tight voice, ignoring Max's laugh at the unintended pun.

"Why, that's downright Zen of ya," the vigilante told him with a grin, though it faded as he saw the little bot in the midst of some qualm. "Uh... 'sup? Clank?"

The way Max posed that question filled him with a flood of conflicting emotions. 'This is absurd... no one will cease to exist. My plan is nearly foolproof!' he chided himself, but he had enough sense to realize that '_nearly_' wasn't quite the same as '_is_.' And as he sent the Quit command to the chat program, he was gripped with angst over what he was leaving behind here: a body, friendship, conversation, companionship... things he might lose for some time. Things he needed desperately.

As a pang of loneliness became agony, Clank threw himself forward before it all ceased to be, clinging tightly to Max's leg as the bounty hunter blinked in surprise, "Oy, what's all this--?"

"About?" He blinked in shock as he saw he was on that grid of Archives once more, spreading out in all directions in an essentially infinite plane. "Ohhh shh... _shaft_," Max said to himself softly. "Best get on with playin' cactus afore the Big Guy realizes I ain't, 'n sees to it I _am_."

Clank wanted to send another message to Max, but his emotional reaction to parting left him embarrassed. 'And yet... that is what I want to apologize for. I feel like a fool for letting my emotions run away with me.' Finally realizing that he was being a fool more so for that, he addressed an extremely low channel data stream to the bounty hunter. "Uhm... Max, I..."

The bounty hunter chuckled to him with a grin, "Hey! Ya know, it's nice to chinwag 'n all, but if ya keep buzzin' me, I think padre's gonna start to wonder 'bout us."

Clank looked down with a sigh, afraid that Max was pushing him off. "I know, but... I want to apolgize for my... behavior at the close of the channel--"

He replied chidingly, "Oh, waffle... you all cooked up over that? Go on, we all have moments. Heck, I'da stayed in there 'til the Big Guy came knockin' for us to get out. I'm not big on this... disembodied state at all. I feel like a bloody chess piece, just waitin' for Gee Ay to order me to save some poor sap, or have 'em die."

That reminded Clank painfully that he was currently the one managing such orders. "That... would be me, Max--"

"I know, mate," he cut in, "but it ain't yer call. I know what it's like now. I'm in on it, ya know."

"I appreciate your sympathy, Max..." Clank sighed appreciably. "As much as this wretched existence pains me, it is good to know that there is someone there who feels the same."

"Oh, yeah." He tossed his head at the seemingly dormant form of Autonomous a few hexes over. "I guess padre there ain't much comfort."

Clank shook his head. "But... honestly, it should just be a few short weeks, until the time is ripe to act, and then we can bring this unfortunate drama to an end."

Max blinked with a smile. "Struth?! That's not too bad at all. And hey, I'll pass the time out here, alright. I can pretend I'm queued at the tax office, 'n that lasts a small eternity."

Clank giggled, glad to have awakened someone with a sense of humor, and spoken so colorfully. But, as much as he wanted to carry on like this for the duration, he knew it was taking a chance to message at all. "Well... I had best say goodbye, Max, but I want to thank you. Carrying this burden alone... was _such_ a struggle, and I am so glad that is no longer the case."

"Hey..." Max said in a quiet tone, "ya kinda said my piece for me. I owe you big time, mate, for everything. And hell, settin' things up so we can kick the Big Guy's arse? That's gravy. Any time you need a friendly ear, just gimme a tingle. I'm right down the lane, here."

Clank smiled at him warmly. "You are such a blessing... take care, Max. My friend."

The affectionate parting gave him pause, as Max returned softly with a grin, "Hey... great ta know ya, mate. See yas." He had to chuckle as the link ended, 'Who'da thought that li'l spunk would be the one? Now, if we can just handle...' He glared at the icon of Autonomous a short distance off, a red glint in his eyes, though he had to smile as a mischievous thought hit him. 'Say, what kinda neighbor would I be if I didn' lob in for a friendly?'

Autonomous jumped as a startling cry rang in his mind before the link was even complete. "OY! G'day chum. Max Capture here, the new guy. What's shakin'?"

The theologian gaped at him incredulously. "He chose _you_ to awaken next?!"

The bounty hunter gave him a shrug. "I know, go figure. Must be a likeness to a family pet, near as I can make it. Anyhow, you know cards? Steamboat? Five card stud? Starfield? Straight poker? I ain't played much myself, but I hear it's big fun. And it can pass the time as we chew the fat 'n get familiar." He drew a deck from under his coat and began to shuffle like a pro.

'Do we _have_ to?' Autonomous sighed to himself, and then blinked in realization. "Max, you do know that we're supposed to be in a _state of stasis?_"

"Oh, I know." he nodded. "I just thought, a quick yack wouldn't raise a fuss, now would it?"

Autonomous grumbled to himself as he became resigned to the unwelcome intrusion. "Uhm...where did you acquire that... _quaint_ personality?"

He hid a faint grin as he replied flatly, "Oh, that? I hear me mate Dex found it on the net somewhere. Said without it, I'd be borin'. Imagine that!" As the theologian stifled a groan, Max went on relentlessly, "Anyways, I just woke up and I hear you're the guy to come to for the good stuff on everything goin' on here, religion too. Now, how 'bout that Guardian archive? What's up with 'im?"

* * *

Author's notes. Most of this is going to be a primer on straight Australian slang, or _strine. _while some is my own creation.

**All in:** in total agreement or harmony, joining in a group.

**Australis:** a planet settled primarily by Australians, people from a continent on a distant planet called Earth.

**Been a rip and a half:** a blast, quite an occasion.

**Big note:** someone who is sorely impressed with themselves, often used for an authority figure, boss or someone who is or tries to make themselves the big cheese of a group..

**Bloody, bleeding:** a strong word of emphasis, on the verge of obscene, "damned."

**Blow the candles:** call it a night, say goodbye.

**Buckley's:** a remote chance of something.

**Cactus:** dead. Likewise, **cacked, cacked up,** died.

**Canny:** clever, smart.

**Cheesed:** upset, furious.

**Chinwag:** talk, friendly chat, shoot the breeze.

**Chum:** buddy, though it also has demeaning or insulting connotations depending on the context and person addressed.

**Clucky:** emotional, sappy, motherly.

**Cobber:** friend, usually close friend.

**Cooked up:** upset, agitated.

**Crack open a barrel of hell:** raise hell, go on the offensive in a big way.

**Crike, crikey:** golly, wow.

**Dead set:** the truth, or to question the truth of something. "Dead set?" Also **Straight up, struth.**

**Dobber:** a tattle-tale, informer, gossip.

**Done deal:** sure thing, as good as done.

**Drum:** information, essentials, the low down.

**Earning your quid:** doing some serious work, a great accomplishment.

**Gee Ay:** the Guardian Archetype.

**G'lord:** good Lord.

**Got a good ten feet on me:** you're a bigger man than I am.

**Go time:** time to act, carry out a plan.

**Gravy:** extra, bonus, jackpot, good stuff.

**Had me by the chips:** a robot term which is coming into common usage, meaning the organic equivalent of "had me by the privates." At their mercy, unable to resist.

**Holy faq:** this is a play on a robot joke, that the universe has an associated FAQ, and as such, would supersede all the religions of the universe in answering the ultimate questions. Because it also has derogatory anti-religious connotations, and sounds much too close to the F-word, it is considered obscene when used openly, especially as an exclamation. This is why Max was quick to apologize. As an obscenity, all beings have taken to using it.

**Knock:** criticism, mockery.

**Lob in:** drop in for a visit. **Lob in for a friendly:** get acquainted, introduced.

**Mate:** friend, though usually applied to those from Australis or Australia. Max is being a bit forward in welcoming Clank into his circle of friendship, which Clank doesn't realize.

**Mug:** a chiding remark about someone, but can be friendly.

**Nip off:** steal, kidnap.

**No worries:** no problem, also, **no drama.** Max is making a pun on that when he says, "Hey, no worries mate. Where's the fun if there ain't no drama?"

**Nut out:** hammer out an agreement, figure out a problem.

**Spunk:** a good looking or cool person.

**Steel:** strong, impervious, tough.

**Sunnies:** sunglasses.

**'Sup?:** what's up?

**Tingle:** a call, a buzz.

**Top:** originally from the military, a term which meant the highest ranking noncommissioned officer in a troop company. It has come to mean the administrator, manager or big shot of an organization or group.

**Top shelf:** upper crust, elite, big wig.

**Waffle:** nonsense.

**Wired:** complex, intricate.

**Wobbly:** upset, agitated.

Ready to throw some shrimp on the barbie? ;D


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Tact matters**

Major Harrier, a reporter for Vox News, was interviewing Doctor Nefarious at the metro stop with some difficulty, as he had somehow come out of his soap opera spouting coma. "Well... help me understand, here. Several eyewitnesses reported seeing a massive robot dozens of stories tall, some of them indicating that it was at least _partly_ reponsible for the havoc wrought on the streets of Metropolis. And apparently this robot and Ratchet faced off at the lawn of the Metropolitan Hospital."

Nefarious bellowed shrilly, "No, no, _no!_ You're getting it all wrong! I _told_ you, you misquoting squishie, that the robot must have been part of a _publicity_ campaign! Not a campaign of _terror!_ Get your facts straight!"

The reporter rubbed his face, as this was one of the most frustrating stories he'd ever been assigned. "Okay, okay... but my question to you is, what happened to it? And why are you at this metro stop in this condition?"

"Isn't it obvious, you simpleton?! That lunatic Lombax used some kind of _superweapon!_ The poor innocent robot was _obliterated!_ I mean... it stands to reason, doesn't it?! You don't see any sign of it, do you?! And look what happened to us! This is why I don't give interviews to Vox News! You people twist everything!" He tried to face away, but then with a mischievous gleam in his eye, he added, "I think you must be some sort of robophobe!"

The reporter stroked his tie nervously, shooting back, "Not at all! It's our goal at Vox News to give everyone an equally hard time. It's more interesting that way." A clod of turf stuck in the robot's mouth had been bugging him this whole time and he reached down to flick it off, murmuring, "Here, this is really starting to - _OW!_" He jerked as the robot bit down on his finger and refused to let go, beginning to growl like a terrier.

Lawrence remarked dryly, "I'm afraid Doctor Nefarious is unavailable for further comment."

As he struggled to pull free, Major Harrier concluded his report, trying to keep a straight face. "Well... I have to say that the eyewitness interviews I've done... have done nothing to answer the question of just what exactly happened here in Metropolis this evening, a city - _agh!_ - still recovering from the invasion of Emperor Tachyon a few weeks ago. What the huge robot was doing here is a complete mystery... as well as what exactly happened to it. The only thing that - _ow!_ - _is_ clear is that, for whatever reason, Ratchet and this robot wove a trail of mass destruction through some of the busiest sections of Metropolis for several kilocubits. Was it a vendetta, or... _dang it_... something as simple as Ratchet suffering a bad fur day? We may not know the answers for some time, as the last Lombax in the - _crap!_ - universe has fled the planet for parts unknown which begs the disturbing question of our tarnished hero: why run, if you have nothing to hide? This is Major Harri - _damn it, that hurts!_"

A portly looking cyborg bounded up to the scene, panting, "Wait! Don't sign off yet... I have to straighten this all--!" Unfortunately, he ran right into Major Harrier's elbow as he drew back to pound the irrational robot with his microphone, smashing him in the mouth and knocking him flat.

The reporter groaned as he eyed the cyborg laid out on the sidewalk, "Ohhh, poo gas... well, get the legal team down here." Holding up the head of the growling robot dangling from his finger, he exclaimed, "And get this damned thing off of me!"

Ratchet gasped as he caught all this on Aphelion's holovid screen. "Al?" As the scene went back to the Vox News studios, he groaned, holding his head. "How... how could they get everything so _wrong! All of them!_" He had been flipping through the major news channels, hoping that at least one of them would have the story straight, but had grown increasingly despondent at the dire picture they had painted of his actions. "I did my best to _save_ Metropolis!"

He groaned as the unlikely couple of Dallas and Juanita picked up the newscast to chisel away at his reputation even further. "Well, what do you make of that, _Juaaanita?_ It almost seems like our old friend, Ratchet, is trying to relive his glory days as the champion of DreadZone. But this time, on the streets of Metropolis!"

"It certainly does, Dallas darling," the robot drawled in her seductive Latin accent, slapping his hand as he tried to sneak it over to hers on the newsdesk. "As I recall, he has a weapons fetish, and an arsenal larger than some armies possess, as his unfortunate opponents in Dreadzone found out! And from the scenes we saw tonight, it looks like he once again dug into that weapons locker of his and unleashed red hot fury on the poor innocent citizens of that major city."

"And _still_ trying to get back to normal after that invasion by the fleet of Emperor Tachyon. But why did Ratchet go berserk! No one seems to have a clue! Is it that time of the month? Has he had his shots! Unfortunately, Ratchet comes from the planet Veldin, which _itself_ is still rebuilding after the Tyhrranoid Invasion, and his medical records have yet to be recovered!"

"Does death and destruction follow this wild creature everywhere it travels?!" Juanita asked dramatically.

"It does seem that wherever Ratchet goes, trouble is sure to follow. And the questions never stop! Do we even know what a Lombax is? What are his motivations? Does he have a death wish? Any interesting hobbies? To see if we can cast any light on this mystery species, we decided to invite the leading authority on feloid races into the studio, Doctor Oppenhammer Snevenborf. Tell us, Doctor, just what _is_ a Lombax?"

At another desk, a small groundhog-like being in a labcoat tapped a pointer at a screen displaying one of Ratchet's inflated Decoy Units, weaving gently back and forth. "As you see here, the Lombax is a small feloid creature, somewhat resembling a lynx." He then folded his hands and stared at the camera.

Dallas was caught off guard as the camera swiched back to him, smiling with an awkward chuckle. "Fascinating! Uh... and can you tell us what might have caused this outburst of violence?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Not really."

The news anchor began to tug on his collar nervously, as Juanita seemed unwilling to do more than smile politely at the camera. "Uhh... do you have _any interesting theories to tell us?_"

"Oh... well, he seems nice enough on the commercials. I can't explain why he would become a ruthless killing machine out of the blue like this. Perhaps he's shedding. In any case, I'd try offering him a chew toy. That might curb his thirst for violence."

Ratchet groaned in dismay, holding his head in his hands. "I can't believe this... now I'm a rabid cat who broke free from my _leash?!_"

Dallas' pupils began to shrink in reaction to this dreadful interview, one eyebrow starting to twitch, and he remarked sarcastically, "_Thank_ you, Doctor Snevenborf, for that... _penetrating_ insight - _who booked this furbrain?_"

He slapped his face as the Doctor called from across the stage, "I heard that."

Juanita finally came to his rescue, saying, "Dallas darling, this has been a trying day for all of us, hasn't it?"

"Tell me about it." And then realizing he was still on camera, he perked up, blurting out, "And _long!_ This story has been burning up the minutes faster than when Courtney Gears had that affair with the Cragmite Emperor. It's all over every news network, The Intergalactic Geographic Channel, _and_ Animal Universe!" He wiped his brow tiredly. "I tell you what, I think it's time to take a break and give our sponsors a word in edgewise. But stay tuned to the Vox News Network as we continue to follow the unfolding drama of _Ratchet Gone Wild!_" As an image appeared behind them of the Lombax angrily blasting a weapon with the title of the news story emblazoned at the top, Dallas posed with a big smile next to his wife until the theme music concluded, then promptly shriveled. "Man, this is nuts." He tossed the notes he'd been holding into the trash with a sigh. "Sorry about that, Ratchet, but, you know... ratings, paychecks and all that."

Juanita said to her spouse as an ugliness began to creep into her features, "Dallas, darling, haven't you noticed that the little red light on the camera--" She stomped his foot painfully as she yelled, "Is still _on?! Pendejo!_"

As she beat her unfortunate husband over the head with her metallic fists, Ratchet shouted at the screen, "Serves you right! I saved your lives, you _bast--!_"

"_Ratchet!_" Aphelion cut in sharply over a series of beeps from the console. "Perhaps you should return to Kerwan and explain all this. You know at the very least, there's going to be a bench warrant out on you."

He sighed, shaking his head ruefully. "No... it would be even worse. I might be stuck there for a week... even longer if they decide to detain me for _public safety_." He emphasized with 'quote' motions from his fingers. "No, I have to get moving while I can."

The nano-id watched his friend sadly from the other seat, stunned at this baffling turn of events. "Poor Ratchet... I wish I could comfort you." Having not seen the interview between Darla Gratch and Tachyon yet, he wondered to himself, "I still do not understand... _how_ did all this news gathering go so astray from the facts?"

Ratchet mused at the same time, "I don't get it though... how could the media all get it so _wrong?_" Then it hit them both at the same instant, and they exclaimed in unison, "Tachyon!" The nano-id smiled up at his friend admiringly as their minds worked in harmony.

"But... Ratchet..." Aphelion began awkwardly, not quite sure what to make of the outburst. "Didn't you say that... you had done away with Tachyon back on Fastoon?"

"Well yeah! But..." He faltered as he realized that he had nothing to offer Aphelion but a bunch of nightmares, and that was hardly what _anyone_ would consider evidence, let alone an analytical computer. He looked down with a sigh, murmuring, "Never mind... it was just a stray thought."

"Oh my..." the nano-id sighed, his eyes slanting in concern as he looked at the floorplates. "I see the possibility for strained relations, should this kind of misunderstanding continue. Similar issues resulted in some unhealthy friction between Ratchet and mysel... well, my _original_ self. I do wish I was a quantum computer, as working out issues by the cycle seems horrendously time consuming now. But... should I intervene between these two, or would that be unwise, such as when I revealed myself to my friend?" He regarded his Lombax companion uncertainly, as that revelation had definitely opened a can of unintended worms.

He blinked as the console beeped once more, as did Ratchet, then it beeped again, and again. Messages were pouring in, and the pair gaped at the display as it rapidly filled up, scrolling off the screen, the beeps becoming a grainy tone for a few seconds as the console was flooded with sends. "Oh man..." he murmured as he ran down the list. "Everyone I ever remotely knew... this news must be all over the universe by now!" Having spotted Talwyn's message, he scrolled down and opened it first, as he prayed there was a chance it might involve some word about Clank.

But of course not; it was simply her, gushing into the screen of her concern. His heart twisted at her expression, and the tone in her voice. "Ratchet? It's Talwyn. Listen... I just heard the news. I don't believe it, not for one minute. _Please_, come back to Apogee Station. I want to help... I want to _talk_."

That last word, and the way she said it, made his tummy lurch, and he gaped at the screen a little breathlessly for a moment, as the memory of her comfort welled up in his mind. "Uhmmm... listen, can I get back with you? Soon! I promise!" As she gasped in surprise, he put the channel on hold, opening up the next one that held any significance to him, swallowing, as it was from the Mayor.

She heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, _there_ you are. Sasha here. Listen, I'm sure by now you're aware that the news media is all over the fight between you and that giant robot, and they're ripping you a new one. I have no doubt that Nefarious is responsible, or of your complete innocence. I can't understand how they could all be misreporting this thing so badly, but the damage has been done. You _have_ to come back to Metropolis so we can sort this out... together." The tone of her voice and her gaze grew tender, causing his stomach to knot in response, his breath growing short. "This is a heck of a reason to give you a call, I know, but... hey, it's been a while. And listen, I have pull like nobody's business."

He murmured almost lustily as he gazed deep into her eyes, "Oh... _tell me about it_..." Then when he caught her giggle and realized what he was saying, he blurted out, "Oh! No! I mean... wait! Listen... I really... can I get back with you? Soon!" As she blurted out an exclamation, he slapped the hold button, scrolling through the list until he came across the third name that meant something dear to him, and he swallowed as his finger hovered over the button. Then, realizing what he was doing, he growled as he mashed it forcefully, "Oh, don't start that again!"

He felt his body turn to jelly as Angela's breasts filled the screen, just concealed by the blouse she was wearing, the glimpse of lace causing his teeth to clench in desire. He was disappointed when she drew back, as she must have been adjusting the camera, but at least he could breathe again. It was painful to see the concern in her eyes, and hear it in her voice as she began hesitantly, "Ratchet... I don't know what to say. I don't believe a word of it... oh! The news! I mean. But... I guess you know by now..." She drew a deep breath, and he felt his insides go liquid again at the way her curves flexed before him.

He said quietly, as he had trouble finding the breath to speak, "Oh... Angela, I just--"

"Are you there?" she asked, then wilted, murmuring sadly. "Oh, yeah... I guess... you're kind of busy, with all the things going on now, aren't you?"

He wanted to cry out when he saw that it was a recording. "Oh, I can't believe it... _I missed her!_"

"Well..." she went on somberly, "listen... give me a call back, just as _soon_ as you can. And don't you _dare_ take four years to get back with me! Or _five!_ I'm worried sick about you!" Her demeanor grew soft again as she gazed into the screen, her eyes glistening with emotion, reaching up to stroke her fingers along what must be his default picture on her display. "Please..." she murmured, "come to me... _soon?_"

He reached up to touch his fingers to hers, jumping as the screen went dark before he could, and he shriveled, whimpering her name. A small part of him insisted it was best to wait a while and just leave a message in the middle of her night, but the rest of him was throwing a fit to call right back. When it seemed even Clank was urging him on, the majority ruled, and he keyed the Reply button. "Angela? _Angela!_" he cried before he could stop himself, fighting to get control so he could leave a rational message, as it seemed she'd left her office already, her own image on the display. He had to disable the annoying audio prompt as messages were continuing to trickle in.

"Uhm... sorry about that," he murmured, "but... I guess I'm still a little on edge from what just happened. Listen... I'm sorry... I'm _really sorry_ I missed you. You see... I'm getting messages from people I don't even know... I got kind of tied up. I think... I wanted to talk to you more than anyone. Uhm... I really can't explain what's going on... it's crazy. I can barely believe all this myself. And... it may take a long time to go through it all before it's all over with. I know, I'm not making much sense, but... I think it's best if you don't know. It's so..." He heaved a heavy sigh, gasping as he fought for control. "It's... _messed up_, Angela, and... all I wanna do right now is go there, and be with you. But... I _have_ to fight this battle. It's the most important one I've ever been in, and there's no getting around it. But when it's done... I'm gonna keep that promise to you, like... you wouldn't believe."

He realized that he was getting carried away with himself and laying it on _extremely_ thick, and he could redo the message, but... he couldn't bring himself to stop, and a second message might end up being even worse somehow. Finally, he said softly as he stroked her image on his screen, "I... gotta go. Just... trust me. Before you know it, I'll be back. I'll... see you later... promise." His finger hesitated over the Send button, wishing that she would pop onto the screen, but finally he realized he was being silly and pressed it.

And then he realized with a start that he had two others holding for him who really _were_ there, and yelped as he went back to Talwyn, who didn't look too happy to be kept waiting. Seeing his image, she blurted out, "Ratchet, what the hell is going on! I've been waiting for like..." She looked embarrassed as she mumbled, "_Nine minutes_... I'm sorry..."

He shook his head. "No, really, I understand. It's totally crazy on my end too."

That worried gaze pierced his heart like an arrow as she said, "Look... you need to chill for a while, until we can figure something out. Come back to Apogee Station, and we'll work on it--"

"Woah woah, _woah_..." he said, putting up his hands. "What's with this 'we' stuff?" As he said it, he realized he was being harsh, and he felt even worse when he saw how crushed she was.

"Well... I thought we were friends..." she began in a hurt voice. Then, gathering herself, she said more forcefully, "You know, I want to help out when you're in trouble. You mean a lot to me, Ratchet! What about all that stuff we went through together!"

He put his hands up again, though now as if to fend her off. "Hey, look... I'm sorry! Bad choice of words. But this time... you really have to stay out of this."

"Why! Is it _dangerous?_ What do you think we were doing on Fastoon when Tachyon's fleet was attacking us! Having a picnic?!" She leaned into the screen, declaring, "I'm a big girl now! I can take care of myself! I had to when daddy ran off, and I did for years! Don't act like I'm some dumb bimbo!"

The nano-id moaned, shaking his head at the scene. "Oh, my word... this is getting out of hand. Ratchet, listen... calm down and think carefully--"

He blinked as the Lombax shouted, "Zip it!" though he was speaking to Talwyn. "Don't talk to _me_ like _I'm_ some kind of little kit! I know what the story is, here! This is _serious!_ There's a lot more to Clank's disappearance than even I suspect, and I'm not about to drag you into something this bad!"

She planted her fist on the hourglass curve of her hip. "Oh really? So, the big bad Zoni might run off with us forever? Well, would it be so _awful _to be stuck with a girl like me for the rest of our lives?!"

That caught him completely off guard, and he had trouble catching his breath for a moment, mumbling, "No... not _even_..." But then he blinked as he realized what she was doing, stammering, "W-wait, _wait_... look, it's _not_ gonna happen. Just... drop it. Forget getting involved. Stay there, where it's safe."

She glared at him, her voice taking on the character of steel. "Yeah, you're right. I need to stay away. Cowboys always have to throw themselves into battle solo, so the ones who care for them can sing songs about them... when they get themselves killed!" Her voice was cracking and tears were brimming in her eyes as she slapped at the End button angrily. "Oh, _damn it to hell!_"

Ratchet blurted out, "Angela, _wait--!_" Then he clamped his hands over his mouth in wide eyed, mind numbing shock as the screen went dark, gasping, "Oh, _fff...udge..._"

The nano-id groaned as if in pain, which in a way, he was. "Ratchet... _for pity's sake! Do not_ blurt out the first syllables on the tip of your tongue! _Think_ about what you are going to say!"

The Lombax held his breath for many long moments, finally meeping, "Maybe... she didn't catch it..." But then, his blood became icewater as a new message appeared at the top of the list.

**T. Apogee:** WHO THE IS ANGELA!

As he flinched away from the screen as if it was a deadly serpent, the nano-id regarded him disapprovingly. "Ratchet, you _need_ to answer it. What if..." He got a fiendish look on his face, exclaiming, "_What if it is the last moments you ever spend with her?!_" He chuckled, "Perhaps _that_ will get him to think."

He gasped as he pushed himself into his seat, shaking his head as he whimpered, "Nothing good can come from opening that message..."

'Clank' folded his arms. "Ratchet, you cannot avoid this forever. It would be best to get this over with."

"No... _no_..." The Lombax shook his head in mortal terror, sounding like a narrator on Intergalactic Geographic as he began muttering, "This is the time of supreme danger for the male of the species... when death can strike without warning..."

The nano-id glared at him scoldingly. "Ratchet! This is _Talwyn_ you are discussing! She is your friend! Just explain to her that it is a misunderstanding... er, _somehow_..." His voice faltered as he realized how impossible that could be, then suggested brightly, "Send her some flowers!"

The little bot gaped in surprise as Ratchet shook his head, grumbling, "Oh yeah, right, like they deliver to the Nundac Asteroid Ring..."

The nano-id looked between the message screen and the Lombax, and as he seemed he would never move from that position, the little bot sighed. "_One_ intervention. You will thank me for this later. At least... I_ hope_ you will..."

But amazingly, Ratchet worked up the nerve just then to open it himself, recoiling with a cry as Talwyn's angry face filled the screen. "_WELL?!_" she screamed just as loudly.

He felt as threatened as if the girl was holding a weapon to his stomach. "Angela! Well! She's... a... uhhhm... friend. _Old_... friend..."

"_How_ old!" Talwyn shouted, and Ratchet flinched in alarm as her tail cracked like a whip. He cursed under his breath in shock, and the girl grew impatient. "_Hello?!_"

"Well... _many_, uhm..." He finished quietly, looking aside as if there was a way to escape in the cramped starfighter. "_Months_..."

She told him in a voice dripping with venom, "Well, then why don't you message the _old girl_ about all this so you can drive her as crazy as you did me!"

"_I already di--!_" Ratchet exclaimed, clamping his hands over his muzzle as his eyes bugged out in horror, but far too late. 'Oh my God... just skin me now and get it overwith...' He pushed himself back into his seat as far as he could as Talwyn screamed in frustration, smashing her fist into the keyboard and bringing the message to a stunning end. He panted, slumping in his seat as if he'd undergone torture. "Man... after facing this, I can handle _anything_..."

The nano-id wailed as if he was in agony, and in a sense, he was. "Oh, _Ratchet! _How in the _world_ do you manage to be such a clumsy oaf sometimes when it comes to the fairer sex!"

He shook his head, muttering as if in despair, "Hell... I don't _know_..." His eyes wandering over the console, they were drawn to a flashing light, and he lurched in his seat, gasping as he fumbled for that Hold button. "Oh my gosh..._ Sasha!_"

'Clank' rolled his eyes heavenward. "Ratchet, I am afraid you will somehow find a way to ruin this call as well. I _urge_ you to apologize and say goodbye to her."

But he didn't. The Cazar woman was sitting with her back to him, evidently watching the news again to pass the time, or perhaps to learn something, but she turned around quickly when her computer alerted her. "Oh, _finally_," she said with a warm smile. "You know, usually _I'm_ the one who keeps people waiting." She leaned against her desk, and Ratchet became caught up in her beauty, his ordeal with Talwyn slipping his mind as he drank in every curve of her seductive figure. He was glad that the camera was beside her desk, as he could gaze down the curves of her slender legs... or had she done that intentionally? She evidently had a thing for uniforms, as well as a gift for making them appear fashionable, and this one seemed even more sheer than her Naval garb, leaving even less to the imagination. She had to clear her throat to get his attention. "Ratchet?"

"Oh! Uh... I'm sorry, it's just that..." His voice grew somber as he murmured, "It's been so long, and you look... better than _ever_..."

She gave him a heart melting smile, saying in a sultry tone, "You keep talking like that, and I might have to change into something more comfortable." She had to laugh as he choked, and he could tell that she was flushed along much of her body. But she knew she had to get down to business, and cleared her throat again, growing serious. "Ratchet... please, tell me what's going on. I know you've been involved in a number of unusual intrigues before, but there's something very different about this one. It almost seems like the whole universe is ganging up on you."

He shook his head slightly as he replied, "Tell me about it..."

"Well, come on then." She curled her fingers towards herself invitingly. "I'm all ears."

"I... uh..." he began, making several attempts to say something disarming but failing each time, and finally he told her, "Sasha, I... can't, I just _can't_..."

She gasped in shock, then leaned forward, her demeanor taking on the old essence of the stern Naval Captain who wouldn't take any guff. "Ratchet, that's an unacceptable answer. I have casualties here, _my citizens_, who were depending on _me_ to insure their safety. Like it or not, I'm involved now. So, try again."

He held up his hands in dismay, hating that he was pushing her off, but he couldn't waste any time dallying with her, and he had a feeling that if he went there, even as serious as things were, they would end up _dallying_ quite a bit. "Sasha..." he began hesitantly, "look, I really... _really_ want to be there with you, like you wouldn't believe..."

Despite the imposing manner of the officer which would never go away, he caught a questioning, yearning look in her eyes. "But?"

That gaze of desire, real or imagined, made it _very_ hard to focus. "But... Sasha, you said it yourself. This is _different!_ I can't tell you what's involved in all this, because..." His voice became tender as he finished, "I... don't want anything more to happen to you, or Metropolis, or _anyone_. Especially you..."

For an instant, her eyes betrayed a tumult of mixed emotions, from hurt to admiration, and of course fondness. But then came the outrage. "Ratchet, give me a break! This noble crusader act, going off to fight your dragons alone, isn't going to wash with me." He gulped as a rather lurid image sprang to mind, but he had no chance to enjoy it. "Look... we fought Nefarious as a team, and, well... I know the Q Force wasn't the best support in the universe, but we succeeded against that maniac because we were in it together." She had to smile as she recalled how it worked out. "And from the way you're carrying on about this, it has to be an even bigger threat, which is all the _more_ reason why you _have_ to let me in on it!" As the Lombax looked down in reluctance, she added quickly, "Ratchet, don't you _dare_ cut me out of this! I lo... _care for you_ too much to let you run off and face this threat alone!" Despite the anger she felt, she couldn't keep from looking down as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at what she'd nearly let slip out, as well as a passionate joy that she at least hinted at it to him.

It was clear to him too, and he whispered her name lovingly as he drank in her flustered beauty, but then he realized what was going on between them and he blurted out thoughtlessly, "Oh, come on, Sasha. I _just_ went through this routine with Talwyn--!" His teeth clamped shut in reaction to his folly, and he bumped his helmet with the ham of his fist as he muttered to himself, "Talking too fast... _think before you speak_..."

The nano-id declared as he shook his head, "Well, it is a little late for that _now_, is it not? _Why_ do you not listen to me!" He was getting too used to these faux pas to be very distressed by them anymore.

Sasha had one of _those_ looks that all men dread seeing, a mixture of insult, mischief and advantage as she murmured with a thin smile, evidently consulting a registry, "_Talwyn?_ That's a _very_ distinctive name... Talwyn _Apogee_, is it? Hanging out with Max's young daughter, I take it... is she _old enough_ for that sort of thing?"

Ratchet nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, believe me, she's _plenty--_" He gagged as he caught himself far too late, stammering, "I-I mean... she's..."

"_Plenty_, I know, I caught that _clearly_," Sasha told him with a haughty smile as she leaned sideways into her desk, crossing her legs in a way that was downright pornographic.

Ratchet gaped at her in hypnotic fascination as the woman pulled out all the stops to seduce him, and he was so caught up in the sight that his lungs had to remind him to breathe. He began faintly, "Angela... look, it's nothing, really... there's no reason to get all..." And then when he realized he'd said _that other name_, he chewed his tongue with a moan of despair. "Oh, crapping _hell_..."

"_Angela_, huh?" she murmured with an accusing smile. "_That_ explains why I was on hold for so long. You going through that little black book to say goodbye to your list of old flames before you go running off?"

She nibbled a pinky nail elegantly, and Ratchet had to concentrate _very_ hard to get something sensible out of his mouth, and even then, it was strained and guilty sounding. "Sasha... there's no _black book_... they're just... friends, like you." Realizing what he'd let slip, he blurted out, "I mean... _not like you!_ Like... _oh, fffu-elgercarb_..." He sighed resignedly, thinking he'd better move along before he _really _threw himself in a pit of spikes. "Listen, maybe... I should call back when things are less... evil..."

She had to giggle at his wording, shaking her head in a way that was as seductive as the rest of it, her jewel-like eyes locked in his. "Oh, no... keep going. This just gets better and better."

He gave an unconscious gasp of desire as she slid her calves sensuously against each other, and he had to admit, a part of him was thoroughly enjoying this seductive torture. He told her quietly, not quite thinking about what he was saying, "Sasha... sweetheart, I really... _really_ want to be there right now... it _hurts_ to be away from you..."

There was a flash of romance in her gaze at the endearment, and seizing it, she drew a breath to project her breasts out at him. "So... what's stopping you? Come on in, and tell me all about your troubles. We'll work... _things_ out... _together_." The sultry tone of her voice and gaze of desire had his leg tapping.

It took a few tries to get his voice to resemble coherent speech, and he was _this_ close to surrendering to her, though a part of him still held control. He whimpered,"Sasha... I just... I _can't_. I have to save Clank--" He caught himself once again just a bit too late.

The Cazar froze for a moment as she realized with a start that the little robot had been absent throughout this ordeal. "Now we're getting somewhere. Tell me what happened to him." She still managed to keep her seductive loveplay facade going despite the intense focus on this trouble.

He shook his head slightly, as it was incredibly difficult to deny her. "I... I can't, really... there's something big going on as well... _really_ big. I can't say just what, but... I'm afraid what might happen if... anyone else got involved..."

She gave him a toothy smile, murmuring luridly, "Hey, I'm a big girl too... despite my size, _really_ big, and I can handle just about _anything_ you throw at me." Slowly, meaningfully, she slid her calves against each other. "And I can use some of that... _pull_..."

Ratchet was almost panting for breath at this delicious sight, and completely missed what the Mayor was truly driving at, shaking his head. "Not now... later though... you name it..."

Sasha giggled at how caught up in her seduction he was, saying in that sultry tone, "No, _no_... you're not in any position to dictate the rules to me, hot shot. Now... are you coming back? Or... do I have to tug a few strings to _make_ you?"

That got his attention like a slap to the face, and he blurted out, "Hey, no, wait... Sasha, that's not fair!"

She chuckled to him with a mischievous smile. "Oh yeah? What's that ancient saying... all's fair in war, and... what's that other thing?"

That was roughly it, and though Ratchet's heart skipped a beat at the unspoken part, he had to protest. "No, Sasha... not this time. I have to do this... this is _serious!_"

He had to sigh in dismay as she told him, "Well, in case you don't remember me all that well, what will all the women you seem to have become _acquainted_ with in the past few years, I'm serious too. And I'm used to getting what I want. Now, we both have some choices to make. _You_ can either turn around and get your tail back here, where we can sort this whole mess out... or _I_ can call the Spaceport Authority. And _they_ have the authority to call the Intercluster Alliance of Peacekeepers, which they _might_... depending on what I say." She laced her fingers in her lap daintily, giving him the smile of a woman who held all the cards. "Now, what's it going to be?"

He gasped in astonishment. The Intercluster Alliance was the _big_ league, and had been created from civilizations spanning almost forty galaxies and seven galactic clusters. Although they had never been directly involved in any conflicts yet, even the Cragmite War save in a limited way, they also provided a comprehensive network to law enforcement throughout the seven clusters, and they regarded the entire expanse to be one massive jurisdiction. If she contacted them, he could never land at another spaceport _anywhere_ without being arrested and Aphelion impounded! And then something about all that made him swallow nervously. 'Is she sensing the truth... that this is bigger than even two or three galaxies? After all... I don't even know for sure what I'm involved in!' As he thought about it, IRIS had pointed out that the reach of the Guardian was apparently unbelievably vast and _interdimensional_, and this was besides the threat that Tachyon posed him. Facing this realization all over again, he began to tremble, feeling insignificant and powerless. 'Am I in way over my head this time? Is she right... should I go back to her?'

Sasha spoke up, saying to him pointedly. "Ratchet, I'm waiting for your answer, and I don't like to be kept waiting."

He was within a split second of giving in to her when it occurred to him that, if what he was facing was unstoppable, what difference would it make if he stood up to it alone, or with all of his friends and their resources combined? But if it _wasn't_ unstoppable... well, he'd faced what he thought were impossible odds before. "I just have to believe in myself... I have to at least _try_."

The feloid blinked at him, not liking what she'd overheard. "What did you say?"

He said in reply, "Sasha... give me a week, at least. Just to get a better sense of what I'm dealing with. Please?"

"Oh... I can't believe this," she groaned, putting her hand to her forehead as if in pain. "You stubborn, egotistic _son of a bi--!_"

In a defensive reaction, he jabbed his finger at the console to end the channel, but when he looked down at the display, he saw that he'd only hit the Hold key. "Oh crap... she's still on," he muttered as he unfroze the channel, his stomach lurching as he saw her reach for her intercom. "Sasha! _Wait!_"

She turned to glare at him, and his heart sank as her eyes looked much too moist. She wiped at them as she exclaimed, "Give me a reason! A _damned_ good one!"

Scrambling for something to appease her, he said, "Sasha, look... when you were a Naval officer, and you were facing an unknown threat, you sent out scouts to scope things out, right?"

Her anger dwindled as she began, "Well, yes, but... Ratchet..." She propped her head up as she leaned into her desk with a tired sigh, murmuring sadly as she looked down, "Why... why do you insist it always has to be _you...?_" She stroked little patterns with her finger in her desktop, and he got the impression she was tracing his face in her mind.

It was painful to see the young woman in that mood, and he had to swallow a moan. "Sasha... hey, I won't risk any crazy chances." When she gave him a knowing look, he added quickly, "Well... just not... _risky_ risks..." He shook his head at how childish that sounded.

She had to chuckle at that, but it was tinged with bitterness. "Ratchet, who do you think you're fooling? I know you. _Risky_ risks are what you dive into head first, especially when they have to do with your friends."

He put his hands up in placation. "Well... okay, you got me there, but I'll be careful. Seriously. Just... give me some time... a week or two. I'll contact you just as soon as I learn something solid. I promise."

She smirked at him as she said, "Oh, so now it's a week or _two?_ Don't press your luck with me, pal. I have to warn you, I'm _this close_ to making that call."

Ratchet clasped his hands together anxiously. "Sasha, please... _please_ don't. If you give me two weeks... I'll be totally at your mercy. I promise you."

A canine protruded from her lip as she gave him a tawdry, lopsided smile that made his stomach do flops, and even more at the saucy tone of her voice. "Cowboy... you have no idea what you're promising." She couldn't restrain a laugh at the expression on his face, and she was glad for the break in the tension, shaking her head. "I don't know why I let you jerk me around like this, but... all right. You have _two weeks!_" He jumped in his seat in reaction to her outcry, and when she saw that he'd calmed down, she continued sternly, "And after that, if you haven't contacted me, your butt is mine. Do I make myself _clear?_"

He struggled through a stream of gibberish, finally replying, "Uh, yeah... yes ma'am! Perfectly!"

Her lips bore a faint smile as she told him, "It had better be. Now, you mark this time, and if you are so much as one _minute_ late, I'm going to make you realize it within an inch of your _life_. Understood?" Ratchet fumbled right that instant with his chronometer to key in the mark, sensing that he'd better take her deadly seriously. She smiled a little more, saying as he looked up, "I know what would happen if I did contact the S.A. You'd... just go on your merry way as a fugitive. Somehow, you'd find a way to replenish and maintain your ship, and... that would be the last I ever see of you..." She added softly with a frown as it occurred to her how morbid that sounded, "For years..."

His heart twisted at the look in her face, the sound of longing in her voice, and he blurted without thinking, "Sasha, there's _no way_ I'm not coming back to you. Whatever it takes... I promise." And then an inner Lombax kicked him as that sounded rather familiar...

His unseen companion was also ranting at him angrily. "Ratchet... _no!_ You made that promise to Angela! You cannot keep them _both!_ You..." He used a word his friend had applied to him once or twice. "Numbskull!"

Sasha gave him a hopeful smile as she clutched that promise tightly in her heart. "Hot shot, I'm gonna see to it that you keep that promise, if I have to hunt you down myself." As an uncomfortable quiet fell between them, the couple unable to tear their gaze from each other, the Cazar girl broke the silence. "Well... listen, I need to get back to business, and come up with a reason I didn't contact the Authority. And you have to rocket off to parts unknown like Max Capture. But, Ratchet..." Her eyes took on that jewel-like glisten as she continued softly, "Be careful. What you're not admitting about all this... it frightens me. Please, don't take unnecessary risks, and don't cheat death. If there's one thing I learned while in the Navy, it's that Death hates to be cheated, and I have a feeling he has a grudge against you already."

He had never heard that mortal warning put like that, and it caused his heart to lurch in his chest as he nodded to her solemnly. "I promise, Sasha..."

She gave him a thin smile. "Hey, I know it's melodramatic, but I want you to take this seriously this time. You always go running off half cocked, and... well, if you weren't tearing around the universe fighting dragons somewhere, I..." She visibly swallowed her angst, murmuring as she looked aside, "I just don't know what I'd do..."

He nearly panted out as his stomach clenched, afraid she was about to cry. "No... Sasha, angel... don't talk like that. Please, believe in me, and that I'll be back." He stroked her image on the screen, murmuring as he mustered up an encouraging smile. "Hey... have I let you down yet?"

She had recovered enough to give him an accusing smirk, in spite of the delight she felt at his term of endearment. "You mean, _besides_ the fact that you up and disappeared on me four years ago, and not a _word_ from you since?"

He felt a pang of guilt about that, as she had become involved in politics after retiring from the Solanan Alliance Navy, he had been awarded the Starship Phoenix, and they had drifted apart. And _then_ there had been the whole fiasco of trying to escape Gleeman Vox's DreadZone Arena, Al's close brush with death... it was a very chaotic time, and things got away from him. But as a consequence, most of his friends had been forgotten, including her. He sighed faintly, "Sasha... I'm really sorry about that... I was young and stupid..."

She was glad that Ratchet gave her lots of opportunities to laugh. "Oh listen, _you_ are going to be young and... well, you know, for at least another century. At least young at heart, but... that's part of what makes me lo... so... attracted to you." As their cheeks both flushed with embarrassment and affection, Sasha managed to get hold of herself first. "Well... I lost track of how many times I began to say goodbye, but... the clock is ticking, you have dragons to fight, and I imagine you're coming up on jump points pretty soon. Just... remember what I said. Especially about contacting me within two weeks sharp. I'm serious about that. And for heaven's sake, if things get rough, call me. Don't think you have to fight this battle by yourself. Okay? And hey," she added with a smile, "you _can_ call me from time to time _besides_, you know. You don't have to wait 'til the last minute."

He had to chuckle, thinking he should take her up on that. "You can count on it."

She gave him a lopsided smile, muttering, "Well... we'll see about that. Anyway, this has gone on way too long. I won't say anything as final as 'goodbye,' so instead, I'll wish you luck." She got a spicy gleam in her eyes as she edged forward, adding in a sultry voice, "And... maybe, I'll give you just a _little _taste of what will be waiting for you, to encourage you to make it back here in one piece." He gasped sharply as she leaned over, her eyes closing seductively as she approached the screen, her lips parting as if to take his hungrily, _every_ delectable curve and mound of her flesh painfully visible as she reached for him...

He couldn't keep himself from responding, leaning forward to kiss the screen as his lids drooped in passion, his heart beginning to pound, then jumping with a gasp as his nose bumped against the console. She giggled as she drew back sinuously and took her seat, realizing what he'd done but not wanting to tarnish the moment with a barb at him, instead saying to him lovingly, "Hurry back to me, Cowboy... I'll be waiting."

He blinked as the screen went back to the message list, stroking it affectionately, his heart still racing from Sasha's lurid seduction as he whispered her name softly, aching to turn back after all. "Good grief... _why_ did I ever leave you?" As a thought occurred to him, he dove into the Message System preferences and made doubly sure the auto-archive wasn't set up to purge automatically. _This_ one would keep him company when things looked bleak, and remind him to get this resolved as soon as possible.

'Clank' was appalled, grumbling, "Oh, of all the young lovestruck men to be friends with... this is just sad! Ratchet, you _must_ sort out your feelings at some point and make a _choice!_ You cannot keep stringing these women along... it is not fair to them! And it will catch up with you when you least expect it, mark my words! Hopefully, the quest for the true Clank will jar you back to reality."

He blinked, looking up as Ratchet spoke softly, "Angela... she left another send..." He stroked over the message listing, feeling confused, as he'd just finished talking with Sasha, his heart still warm from the rather intimate conversation they'd shared. Juggling his feelings for two women like this, and then Talwyn also... he began to question his behavior, and just what he intended to do about the situation. But still, he felt a unique tenderness towards the Secsauri woman, his finger drifting towards the Open key. And besides, Sasha would never know.

The nano-id groaned indignantly, facing away from his friend. "Wonderful! Why not contact her as well, and demolish the one remaining intact relationship you have! And to think, _this_, after just pining away after Sasha!" He sighed, holding his head in his hands as Ratchet opened the message. "Oh, _why_ must I suffer through this?"

It was another recording, her reply having come as he was wrapped up with Sasha, and once again, he gasped in delight as the lovely feloid leaned up to adjust the camera, giving him much the same delicious sight as before. As she sat back to speak, she looked a little lost for a moment. "I guess... you're busy again, even though it says you're there." She giggled for some reason, explaining, "You know... it would be nice if I opened a message without you yelling at me."

He coughed out an embarrassed laugh as he remembered, murmuring an apology as if she were there. "Oh, yeah. Uhm... sorry about that."

"Anyway," she continued with a longing tone in her voice, "I'm sorry I missed you too. Your message was _so sweet_. At least the first part. The rest..." She sighed, searching for words as Ratchet traced the outline of her cheek on the screen. "It scares me, Ratchet. _Why_ won't you tell me what you're involved in this time? I mean... after that whole Tyhrranoid war and the incident with Doctor Nefarious... how much worse could this _be?_ And then... you throw in some of the sweetest things a girl could hope to hear from a young stud - _man_..." All of a sudden, she grumbled irritably, "Oh... you are the most frustrating guy I've ever met! And to top it off, after not a _peep_ from you for five years, here you show up out of the blue and tell me sweet nothings before you're about to go run off to fight some ultimate evil! You drive me crazy, I swear!"

He stroked the image of her face, murmuring softly, "Angela... I'm sorry--"

"--Sorry," she said in time with him. "It's just that... there really isn't... anyone like you in the whole universe... and to say the things you said to me, just to go running off to face heaven knows what... it's hard, just to sit here and let you... not even getting the chance to see you again. This... image on the screen, it's just not... enough..." She heaved a sigh, murmuring, "Well... I guess I'm being kind of clingy, rambling and sending you messages like this, but... you know, it would be nice if you'd pick up _once_ in a while."

She managed a faint smile, and he whispered as he brushed her lips, "Just... keep sending, please... I'll get one of them."

"Anyway," she muttered, "I guess you're busy plotting on how to save the universe or... asleep or something. I just... wanted to give you one more chance to... wake up and say 'hey,' or..." Her fingers played unconsciously over her bosom as she added, "You know... say something sweet 'in person' to make my heart race, like you do so well..."

He drew a deep, warm breath. "Oh, Angela, sweetheart... give me one more chance to, please..."

"So... yeah, anyhow, I'd better... get off of here before I completely make a fool of myself. My colleagues are already on my case for diving into my office every half hour. I just..." She continued as if short of breath, stroking her fingers across the screen, "I only want to hear your voice once more, before you... go throwing yourself headlong into danger. I know how you are... it's kind of hard to forget... especially when I was at the receiving end of some of that." She smiled, as even the memory of facing off against him was a fond one for her. "Call me, will you? I mean... unless you _like_ getting all these silly messages."

"Oh, angel... I do... I _really_ do... keep sending them..." he whispered, then blinked as he realized he'd talked over her goodbye, and thumped his fist against the console in frustration. "_Damn_ it... how the hell do I keep _missing_ her!"

"Oh, perhaps it is because you keep blathering on with the same promises _to other women!_" the nano-id growled to him accusingly. "Honestly, Ratchet, this is almost polygamy! I dare say... if you _do_ manage to strike up a chat with Angela, I give you _three minutes_ to dash things to pieces."

As Ratchet made to reply and began to speak, he blinked as it seemed Angela's message had looped back to the start. Not that he minded, as his breath grew short, never tiring of that thrilling sight as she leaned up to adjust the camera. "Well, okay, enough of this. I really have to reply--" Then he stopped short as this sounded like a different message.

As Angela settled back to her chair, she began, "I know you must think I'm some ditzy bimbo for sending so many of these, but... I just had to, in case--"

"Angela?!" he blurted out, gaping in astonishment as she tumbled her chair over backwards in shock. "_Angela!_ Sweetheart, are you all right?!"

"Ratchet?" she exclaimed as she practically threw herself at the screen. "Oh, _Ratchet!_"

"Angela! _Oh, baby!_" he cried as he fell against the console himself.

"Ratchet!" she panted as she tried to pull her chair up with her foot. "Oh, I can't believe...!"

"Angel! I know...!" he gasped as breathlessly, his palms planted against the panel. "_Finally...!_"

"Yeah!" she wheezed, her chest heaving, managing to fumble the chair into place and sat down. "Oh, I wanted to..."

"I know," he panted. "I did too... I listened to every..."

"Really?" she gasped, a pained look clouding her features. "Oh, I must have sounded..."

"Oh no! I loved every word of..."

"Really?" she gushed with a smile. "Oh, I'm glad... I was so afraid..."

"No, no... really, they were just precious..."

The nano-id gaped at all this in shock. "I _cannot believe_ what I am witnessing..."

She reached for the screen, saying breathlessly, "Oh... Ratchet, you are such a dear--" She jumped as the voice of a colleague came over the speaker from in her room and she blurted out, stroking her cheeks self-consciously, "No, I'm fine! Just... dropped a stylus, that's all. So, there's no tragic... _No_." When they continued insistently, she pointed away from her, yelling, "_SCAT!_"

Her outcry was so forceful that even Ratchet jumped, but he was glad to have the interruption cut short as he practically drooled at her. "Oh Angela... it's _so good_ to see you..."

The tone in her voice melted his insides. "Ratchet, I'm... sorry I pestered you like that, but... I wanted so badly to... and, not to hear back from you..."

He desperately wanted to hold her hand just then, murmuring, "No, no... I really wanted to hear your voice... I'm sorry I didn't, I'm really... just... going crazy..."

The nano-id sighed, "Would one of you _please_ complete a sentence?"

"I suppose so... that's the impression I got, anyway." She nodded, adding hopefully, "I don't suppose... you're coming here... are you?"

He heaved a sigh, murmuring softly as his eyes closed in dismay, "Sweetheart... _I want to_... it's really hard to say no... but, I..."

"I know," she finished for him in disappointment. "You have to go save the universe... and not even give me a clue as to why..."

He drew a deep breath as he was forced to watch her struggle with her angst. "Angela, it's because... I'm not even sure of it all myself, and... I'm afraid telling you anything would just make things worse."

"Oh sure," she grumbled sourly, "as if telling me nothing at all is any better." He swallowed his emotions as she said to him longingly, "Ratchet... I wish you'd come here... _I want you_... here. With me. Before you go dashing off into danger. I don't have to live in that stupid lab... I can take some time off... we can do things... together..." And then when she realized how suggestive all that sounded, as did he, she blurted out. "I mean... stuff! You know..." She groaned, holding her head in her hands. "Ohh... I sound like some idiot teenager!"

"Oh no, Angela--" Then he blurted out inexplicably, "I mean Talwyn... _Sasha!_" He gaped out at the starfield silently, flabbergasted at what he'd said, finally hissing angrily at himself as he grabbed his helmet with both hands. "Oh, crapping hell... _I can't believe I did that!_"

'Clank' looked at the ship's chronometer and nodded soberly. "Almost to the second."

"So..." Ratchet froze as Angela drew his attention back to her, and with a deceptively calm, detached look in her eyes, the kind of look that usually indicated the end of all life as he knew it. "Who are _they?_"

He tried to speak, but nothing came out but a puff of air, and he tried several times to get his unwilling voice to respond. "Fuh... frr... iends..."

Angela asked much too cheerfully, "What kind of _furrriends?_" When he was slow to reply, she said in a voice that dripped acid, "_Lllaaady furrriends?_"

Somehow, it grew intensely quiet, to the point that he could hear the blood coursing through his veins, his heart thumping in his chest as he wheezed out, "Wwwell... sss... sort of... sssomething like that..."

"How do you _sort of_ have _something like_ lady friends, Ratchet?" she finally asked him in frank accusation. "Is that what you were doing all this time I was pining away for you, sending you all those stupid messages? For that matter, is that what it was for like... _five years?!_"

It hit him at last in that painful moment, as happens with thick headed males, that he was going to have to stop playing games with these three women. And if he wanted to salvage anything of a relationship with Angela Cross, as different as she was from him, he would have to put some serious work into mending her heart, but this was new territory for him. Sadly, his beloved step-parents died when he was a teenager on Veldin. There were no other relatives, and he had to scratch out a living on his own with no guidance on important matters of life and the heart such as this, and was much of the reason that he either took romance lightly or shrunk away from it in fear. But he had tasted something very special in the soul of this lovely woman, and even if he ended up in the arms of one of the others, he realized now that he would always care deeply for Angela, and regretted ever leaving her. But... how could he mend things between them?

"_Well?!_" she cried, making him jump. "It's really cruel of you to go... leading me on like that! I mean... I was getting along with my life just fine, and I was over you! Mostly! So what do you do? Come barreling into my life again out of nowhere, and give me the impression you're interested in me again! Like... seriously! You get on and have me panting for you like some little schoolgirl! And all the while you have... heaven knows _how_ many other girls you're dangling in the same way! And to think, I was so stupid... I was actually pouring my heart out to you... and thinking I was _worth something to you_..." She squeezed her eyes shut and began to whimper as she caught her head in her hands, and it became a whine, and began rising in pitch an octave, then two...

He couldn't bear to watch this sight as she threatened to burst into tears, and he called to her urgently, "Angela... please, _please_ don't cry... oh, sweetheart--!"

"_Don't call me that!_" she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright and wiping her eyes as she snuffled. "I'm... fine. It's all right."

At a loss for anything else to do, he began responding to her. "No, hon, it's not all right--"

"Yes, it's okay," she insisted much too calmly.

"No, it's _not_--"

"You're _flocking_ right it's not!" she exclaimed, causing him to jerk. "Ratchet... this isn't fair, or right! Girls aren't like... your guy pals! When you say the things you said to me... I _need_ to know I'm _special_ to you! Not just... some other friend!Especially not just another girl you're leading on! This is _serious_ to us, Ratchet... it means _a lot_ to a girl, to think a guy cherishes us! I mean, _me!_ And then... to _not_... it really hurts! Oh, how could you be so _stupid_ to think you could get away with this!"

He was numb with grief, and though it pained him to look at her, he forced himself, slowly, to bring his eyes up to gaze into hers. His voice was strained as he said to her, "I... don't know, Angela... I don't know why I was so insensitive and thoughtless to you... and the others. I guess... because I was an orphan at the wrong time. When I find friends... I like to keep them... for a while at least, and the special ones in particular. And the stuff you explained... well, I just... didn't _know_. I never really thought about it seriously. I guess... I just don't have a clue, do I?." She blinked at him quietly, beginning to understand his personality perhaps a bit better. "Anyway... I guess I should fess up to you. See, there are... two others, just two... and they were very kind in... getting me through some tough times. One is Talwyn Apogee... and, she helped me when... I lost Clank..."

She became calmer as he went on, not comfortable with how frank he was being with her, afraid to know _how helpful_ they were, though she remained quiet. But when he mentioned the fate of Clank, her hands went to her mouth with a gasp of shock. "Oh my gosh... Ratchet, _what happened!_"

He put a hand up weakly, murmuring, "It's a long... _weird_ story I'd rather not get into. At least I know that he's alright, though... he's pushing me off like I am you. It's funny how similar it feels, like... he's trying to protect me from something..." When she began to speak, he put his hand up again. "I want to get this off my chest first, before I get into anything else. Anyway, see, Talwyn... she's young, and we're good friends, and it seems like she wants something more... a _lot_ more. But, I'm not sure..."

"So..." she began in that brief silence, gazing into his eyes with a mixture of hope and fear, "what do you want?" She was slightly relieved that at least Talwyn hadn't been _that_ helpful to him.

He shook his head slightly. "I don't know... the thing is, she's really nice, and it's great to spend time with her, but on the other hand, she's also kind of hot tempered, and she's... pretty different. And see... then, there's Sasha..."

"Oh..." Angela visibly wilted as she knew exactly who this was. The Solana Galaxy President's daughter... the _stunningly beautiful_ President's daughter... the stunningly beautiful President's daughter who was much too eligible, was Ratchet's size, and who had been inseparably entangled with him a few years ago. She had been mad with jealousy of Sasha for a while, and for a week - or _so_ - found it hard to function. It had been a moral victory for her when the relationship with the Cazar girl fell apart. But evidently, it wasn't all that _apart_ any more...

Ratchet caught her reaction, and his own ears drooped sadly as he prayed for some wise, delicate, gentle words. "Well, see... Sasha and I... we went through a lot together in the fight against Nefarious and the Tyhrranoids. And... at one point, I was scared to death that she might have been killed, along with my other friends. That was hard to take, and... learning she was all right... that changes things a lot."

Her eyes lowered as she murmured unhappily, "Yeah, I... suppose it would, wouldn't it?"

"Well... yeah..." he shrugged with a sigh. "I guess... she never did drop that torch because she... said some _really interesting_ things to me..." He fell silent as he saw how that remark crushed Angela's hopes.

"So..." she muttered uncertainly with a little shrug, dreading the answer, "how... do you feel about that?" She wished she had the nerve to say some really interesting things to him just then.

"Well..." he admitted to her, "It's... nice, really nice, but... honestly, it doesn't matter to me so much because... right now, I'm with someone very special to me, and... it matters a lot to me... how I hurt you... and, I want to make things right with us." He fell silent, his gaze settling into hers as he drank in her beauty.

Her eyes glistened as those words melted her heart, and she whispered as she reached for the screen, "Oh, Ratchet... that's _so sweet_..."

He wanted nothing more in the world right then than to feel her hand caressing his cheek, moaning as he leaned towards the screen himself, reaching out to touch the image of her fingers. "Angela... sweetheart, I'm so sorry I--"

He blinked, drawing back as she blurted out with a fluster, "W-wait a minute... oh, I can't believe me... let's not start _that_ again." She added to herself, 'A least not _yet_.' Smoothing herself down and trying to rein in her emotions, she said in a quiet voice, "So... when you're with each one of us... that girl becomes the most important thing in the world to you, doesn't she?" Her ears tilted back and her eyes lowered disappointedly as she realized the obvious.

He blinked as he hadn't considered that. He didn't want it to be true, but... there sure was something to that, though he fought it as he replied, "Well, uhmm... _maybe_..."

"Tchyeah, right," she snorted with a melancholy smile. "'_Maybe_,' my plume." Her folded hands in her lap, slumping as she wondered how to proceed. "Well, Ratchet... you said you wanted to make things right with me, and... I want to believe you, I _really do_... I _kind of_ do... but you have _three_ girls you have to consider in this, so you have some soul searching to do. You can only choose one of us." There was a sudden flare of anger in her eyes and she growled with a clenched fist, "And, so help me, if you even _try_ to make it more than one, I'll make you regret the day you were born, buster!"

He flinched away from her, blurting out, "Angela, please...I--"

She put up her hand to stop him. "Ah! No romantic talk." She looked down with a lurid smile as she murmured, "I mean... there's nothing I'd rather do than to grab you out of that ship and maul you silly, 'til you couldn't think straight..." Realizing she was breaking her own ban, she shook her head to clear out those carnal images as Ratchet recovered from it himself. "Sorry. Anyway... you have to sort this out yourself, aaand... make one of us a very happy girl." Her voice fell silent as she feared she wasn't at the top of this very short list.

He couldn't bear to see her suffering like this, especially because of his own foolishness, and he reminded her, "Angela... I made a promise to you--"

"I know," she cut in quickly, hating what she was about to say, "...and I'm letting you break it."

He gasped sharply, as if she was cutting him out of her life completely. "Angela, no! I can't just--!"

"For now!" she interrupted. "Just for now... until you decide, that... you know... maybe we're... sort of okay together..." She drew a deep breath, trying to be mature about this. "Don't make this harder than it has to be. You... _can't_ keep a promise if... it's with the wrong girl, Ratchet. And the only one who can solve that dilemma... is you." Seeing him beginning to reach towards the screen for her image, she looked away with a painful gasp. "Anyway... you have to go beat up some hideous evil and save your friend, and... I'd better go before I lose it and say some things that... wouldn't be too helpful to you to... make an intelligent decision."

Ratchet sighed, "I know you're right, but... I wish you'd talk to me a little longer... it's been so long..."

"Hey, how do you think I feel? Especially after... all those silly notions filling my head over the past couple of days?" She drew another breath, hoping to calm herself, though it wasn't working too well. "Anyway, go. Save the universe, and Clank, like you always do. And then decide. And... you know, one way or the other... come back to me... if only to say bye..."

He tried to stifle a moan as she wrapped herself around the screen, giving his image a kiss, and In his sensitive ears, he could hear her whispering, "Be safe... you lovable dork." He wished with all his heart that he could go there, that everything was all right, Clank and the universe were safe, and there was one woman in particular waiting to welcome him with open arms. He heard the sound of the chair being pushed back, looking up quickly in the hope of catching a glimpse of her, but she was gone already. Laying his head on the console, he murmured, "Ohh, Angela... how could I be so stupid, and put you through this? _How_ can I make this up to you?"

Clank sighed as he regarded his friend in sympathy. "Ratchet, this may have actually been for the best. At least now, you know you cannot toy with these women as you were. That was very mature of Angela to make you see how wrong you were, and allow you a choice. Now, you must make a decision--"

He stopped short as Ratchet murmured, minimizing the Message screen, "If only... Clank was here to help me sort this all out..."

He waved his metallic hands frantically. "Oh _no! Anything_ but that! You are _not_ dragging me into this romantic minefield! You created this disaster, now... it is time for you to be a man about this and sort it out yourself." He folded his arms, looking aside. "I have enough trouble with you as it is!"

"Well, Ratchet..." Aphelion began gently, "you still haven't selected a flight plan. It's about time you thought of a destination, if you aren't going to return to Kerwan."

"You're right," he nodded as he drew back, struggling for a bit to sort his head out. Recalling everything that needed tending to, he selected the easiest thing first and punched in the hyperjump coordinates, then brought the ship around to head to the jump point. "Prepare for hyperjump to Endako."

"Endako?!" Aphelion and 'Clank' both exclaimed in perplexion. "Why? Uhm... are you going to see Angela Cross after all?"

He looked up with a dreamy gaze in his eyes, whispering the geneticist's name, but then shook his head vigorously as he realized what he was doing. "No! I mean... I'm going to my apartment there to pick up some gear." He admitted to himself, "Besides... if I did see her... I might not leave for days, if that..."

* * *

Cronk and Zephyr crept forward slowly, the shorter war bot holding a keyboard uncertainly as they pensively eyed their mistress. Talwyn was sitting at the communications desk, facing away, the smashed keyboard pushed aside along with a few broken keys scattered about, and they could see streaks of tears on her cheek. They looked to each other, hoping one would work up the nerve to speak, and finally Cronk took a crack at it. "Err... Miss Talwyn, we brought a replacement--"

"Not right now," she snapped. "I'm... kind of having a moment here."

He looked down with a sigh, as it pained him to see her in distress. He even hated seeing her father spank her when she needed discipline. "Miss Talwyn... are you...?"

"I'll be okay," she interrupted again, though it didn't seem like it would be anytime soon.

Zephyr clomped up to her. "Miss Talwyn, we don't like seeing you like this."

"Then go away," she blurted out, then heaved a sigh afterwards, putting her fist to her head in dismay. "I'm... sorry, I didn't mean that..."

"I know," he nodded hopefully. "And I know this is a trying time for you. But... listen. You care for Ratchet, we can both see that." Cronk's servos whirred as he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah," she muttered sourly, "but he doesn't need anyone. You heard him. He sure as hell doesn't act like he needs me."

Cronk began, "Well... that may be true--"

He flinched as Zephyr banged him in the arm. "No, that's _not_ true! It's obvious that he _does_ like you, and that he _does_ need you! And our help! And besides... when have you let anyone but your father tell you what to do?"

Cronk nodded in understanding. "God knows, you won't listen to us half the time..."

Talwyn sat there, blinking silently for the longest time, and when the two robots looked to each other, wondering what else to say, she suddenly jumped to her feet, declaring, "Well? What are you two standing around for? We have to go save that idiot from his own overconfident ego!"

The two old soldiers looked to each other with a grin, crying, "Yes ma'am!" As they began following Talwyn, Zephyr remembered the keyboard, replacing the one Talwyn smashed and sweeping up the broken keys, dumping them in the trash chute.

It wasn't as quick a departure as she hoped, as Talwyn kept thinking of last second details for her two guardians, running them all over the station to make sure the food was put away, the unessential systems were off, the defenses were fully active, and a host of other things. And she had to make sure she was fully packed and ready to properly greet the reckless Lombax she cherished angrily.

Finally, they all plopped into their seats and strapped in. She gripped the controls of the starcraft, calling behind her, "Ready?"

The robot pair answered enthusiastically, "Ready, Miss Talwyn!" Then they fell silent, looking around uncertainly, as did the young Apogee. After a lengthy pause, she slumped forward, her head thudding against the console as she groaned, "So... does anyone have a clue where we're going?"

* * *

Sasha stared at her desk, still tracing the lines of Ratchet's face visible in her mind as she agonized over her decision, and what lay in store for the Lombax she cared for. "Why did I let him go?" she murmured in the silence of her office, then she chastised herself. "Look at me, caving in like some star struck teenager. And... talking to myself..." She had to go home and rest up for work in the morning, and had a lot to ponder. The Mayor's work she knew could take care of itself for the most part, as much of it had been organized and orders handed out to officials and surrogates. But this... the mystery of what had Ratchet so out of sorts... what could it be? It was obviously big, something bigger than the mere kidnapping of his friend, Clank, even though that would be enough to have him invading strongholds all across the universe. No, something had him frightened, so much that he refused to divulge a word of it, and it took a lot to scare Ratchet.

And then something occurred to her. 'Is there a tie-in with the incident with Nefarious?' Previously, she knew that she didn't have enough hard evidence to have the robot arrested, as robot's rights were a touchy issue, even with those guilty of outrageous crimes in the past. But her talk with Ratchet made everything different, and she fell back into her Captain's persona, where you didn't need reasons to act when you had the authority.

Within seconds, she had the chief of police on the screen, cutting off his elaborate greeting. "Captain Mac'O'Malley, I want you to issue a Priority One Arrest Alert on Doctor Nefarious and his butler Lawrence, effective immediately."

The police captain blinked at her in surprise, speaking in a think accent. "Er... Miss Mayor, why the sudden change? I thought we hashed this all out a wee bit ago--"

"Extenuating circumstances," she interrupted.

"Right, right..." he nodded, typing on his keyboard. "Pee, one, ay, ay... and what be the charges?"

"Vandalizing city grounds," she replied flatly, adding, "and giving misleading, inflammatory statements to the media."

He blinked at her again, beginning in a cautious tone, "Ehhrr... Miss Mayor, ya know, those are hardly capital offenses--"

"Have you seen the Memorial Hospital grounds?" she asked sternly. "Do you have any idea how that, as well as the damage to the city, will affect the budget? _All sectors?_"

He got the blatant hint, muttering, "Right, right..." He searched for a category matching the level of warrant, finally settling on mass murder. "Killing of millions of blades of grass, countless bugs, as well as innumerable micro organisms..." He shook his head, informing her as he dispatched the warrant, "Ya know... this might come back to bite all of us in the _assets_, if ya catch my meanin'."

Sasha finally eased her businesslike manner, giving him a thin smile. "No, I'll take full responsibility for this. But believe me, I have good reason to be this daring. For once, civil rights are going to have to take a back seat to security."

"Ya don't say? Well, that's a whole other kettle o' fish." He told her, leaning forward, "If the press or I.C.L.U. make a fuss, I'll be right beside ya, me 'n the force. You kin count on that, lassie."

She chuckled self consciously as she thought she might have to do that by monitor, if things worked out. "Well... let's hope it doesn't come to that. And... thanks, Captain. You don't know what this means to me." As the police chief became flustered, she cut in, "Listen, I have to see about these new developments. I'm going to be a very busy mayor until this whole mess is cleaned up, but keep me posted. When Nefarious is apprehended, I want to be in on the interrogation first hand."

He gave her a big thumb's up. "Ye kin count on me, Miss Mayor."

"Thanks again, Captain, for all the hard work, from you and your men. Sasha out." She didn't want to be so abrupt with her Chief, but her mind was racing as she quickly formulated a strategy and didn't want to waste a second, calling up the Fleet Admiral of the Solana Galactic Alliance Navy. She knew that this one would take some time, giving a smile to the admiral's secretary as she gave the reason for the call, then sat back to wait as the Fleet Crest popped up and goopy muzak began playing. Just as she was about to brush up on the fleet regulations, the blue and gold screensaver was replaced with the visage of Fleet Admiral Hot-throttle. "Oh, Admiral! I didn't expect you to answer so quickly."

The well decorated warbot waved casually, speaking in a slight but distinct Scotch accent. "Eh, to be sure, I've been in consultation off and on with your father about the situation in the Polaris Galaxy, but you caught me at an opportune time. And I sure couldn't turn down the Captain of the Phoenix, after your instrumental work in helping us bring down Nefarious." Sasha nodded with a polite smile, though it was actually Ratchet they had been helping much more than the Fleet. "And especially at... this hour? My, but you're working late there. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Actually, I have a favor to ask of you." As he opened an eye questioningly, she continued, "But first, can you tell me the status of the Phoenix?"

His jaw lowered in a hint of a lopsided smile. "Certainly. As you know, we recovered 'er in the wreck of that DreadZone station, and she suffered quite a bit of damage from the explosion. But we've been hard at it, and it's close to being fully restored and upgraded. The last hitch is having to rewire the entire ship's systems, as some yahoo tied the whole thing together with some control computers into one master console! That's about another week's delay or so. But after that, she should be ready to be recommissioned."

Sasha shook her head with a smirk, muttering, "Thanks a _lot_, Al." A week's delay... or more. Still, maybe this was for the best, as she couldn't do what she wanted in a day anyway. As the Admiral asked about that favor, it seemed from his expression that he was guessing it ahead of time. She informed him, "I would like to request that my active duty commission as Captain be reinstated, and to once again be given command of the Phoenix."

"Well, now..." he drawled, "not that it surprises me much, but might I ask why? Perhaps to further your political ambitions? I don't suppose your poll ratings are flagging?"

She chuckled with a shake of her head. "No, although we have been going through a lot here, not the least from Emperor Tachyon's invasion a couple of weeks ago." She clasped her hands together, hoping some of that old prestige meant something. "I have come across some information hinting of a grave threat of unknown nature and scope. I want to check it out, but I need the might of a good ship and crew to see me through any complications."

He leaned back in his chair, giving her a doubtful gaze. "Now, lass... don'cha think that sort of thing is best dealt with by the _active_ members of the Solaran Fleet? After all, that _is_ why they get paid. And... how long have you been in the Reserves?"

She said to him pointedly, "I've been out of active duty for three years, I know. But I also know that I am in the top ranks of Reserve officers both physically and operationally, and am fully qualified as of my last appraisal to re-enter the Fleet, should conditions warrant. I know that the situation in the Polaris Galaxy has the Fleet tied up to an extent, so I could offer you one more unit of flexibility. And, besides..." she added quietly, "there are personal issues involved." She prayed that little fact wouldn't cast her request in a bad light, but she did have to offer up a more firm reason than a simple bid for glory, and she knew that lying wouldn't sail with him.

Her heart sank a bit as he murmured in a dubious sounding voice, "Oh, I see..." He consulted another screen out of view, saying more directly, "Well... it's not like this sort of thing hasn't happened before, and..." It sounded like he muttered under his breath something like '_my nephew_.' "It seems there's not exactly a stampede of officers lining up to helm a jinxed wreck like the Phoenix." He sat back, letting her stew under his gaze for a while in case something more might be forthcoming. "I don't suppose... you can give me something a bit more solid to go by?"

She shook her head somberly, praying hopefully for a favorable reply. "No, Admiral... I'm sorry, but I can't. All I can say is that this comes from a very reliable source for me. And... they may be placing themselves in grave danger to protect the galaxy, in my place, and I can't just sit by and let that happen."

The Admiral sighed, pushing something on his desk away. "This is beginning to sound like the Nefarious affair all over again. But... with the Cragmite situation growing more serious, and... frankly, my own rumors to look into as well, I can't just brush off a well decorated veteran like yourself. Besides," he drawled, eying her sharply, "I don't need you going behind my back to yer father." She smiled sheepishly as that thought _had_ occurred to her. "You aren't thinking of reinstating the... _Q Farce_ too, are ya?"

She had to laugh at the obvious pun, shaking her head. "Oh, no, that was a _one time_ and... rather desperate deal, I assure you."

"That is good news indeed, lass," he chuckled as he drummed his fingers on the desk. "In any case, just tend to business while I mull this over. Meanwhile..." He rose from his chair, reaching to the side of his desk for something that clattered, and she saw to her chagrin that it was a set of golf clubs. "I'm late for a... _meeting_ with the top brass, including your father, while we discuss the situation in the Cluster over a round of eighteen. So, sit tight, Captain, while I see what I can do." He gave her a wink which caused her heart to jump in her bosom as he signed off.

Clasping her hands to her mouth, she gasped, "Captain! Oh, my gosh... _thank you_, Admiral!" She was so excited, she nearly forgot the next stage of her scheme, calming herself as she made a mental note to call on City Council Chairman Trunks first thing in the morning. It might be a week or two, but soon, Ratchet wouldn't be able to run from her with impunity. At least, that was the gameplan...

* * *

It was hard to get motivated to do anything. Even going to work, something Angela used to love doing, was a chore now. Yesterday morning, the world was full of sunshine and delight, made all the more wonderful with a string of sweet message tag with her former attachment. Then by that evening, it had all come crashing down around her, and she felt as devastated as when she first saw the holovids of Sasha and Ratchet arm in arm. She had collapsed on the couch in her apartment, vacillating between tears, anger and longing until she nodded off in her clothes, and awoke late for work. It was strange how warped it all seemed; while she was rushing to get ready, it felt at the same time that she was moving in slow motion. She didn't care how her colleagues in the lab gawked at her as she dragged in late, she didn't care how she looked... she just didn't care, period. They gave up trying to cheer her or learn something, finally giving her a wide berth as they went about their business.

The Protopets weren't quite so tactful, insisting on attention. When she simply plopped down at the table where she was supposed to be studying their emotional stability, intellect and trainability, ignoring them, they fawned on her, meeped for attention, and finally did whatever it struck them to do. One of the Felosi scientists who had a mild crush on her came up and gave out a yelp of shock, watching the little pastel furballs essentially mauling her at will as she sat there with an oblivious melancholy gaze. "Doctor Cross!"

"Yeah? What...?" she muttered distantly, until it registered that one of the Protopets was giving quite tender bites to her ear. And that one was clamped onto her plume. And that many others were perched all over her. And then her eyes bugged out as a few of them were in some _very_ embarrassing places they had no business being! "Oh my gosh... why you little monsters - _OOH!_" she squealed in outrage, jumping to her feet and shaking or plucking them out of her dress, swatting them from her and squealed again. "You little fiends... hop in your cages!" When they looked up to her, meeping in protest, she pointed angrily to their pens, exclaiming as she stomped her feet at them in a staccato tap dance, "_Hop hop hop hop hop!!_" This started a small pastel stampede as they squeaked in terror, each one tumbling into their assigned cages, flinching as the Doctor slammed their doors shut. "You... _you_... _you know better than that!_ And no whining, little misters! And mistresses," she added quickly as half of them squeaked in objection. She held up her right hand, making a bent 'L' with her index finger and thumb, sweeping an arc between them in the sign of a time out, and this seemed to placate them. Turning away, she clutched at her gown squeamishly, tugging it back into place as she growled, "Honestly, what's gotten into you all--?!"

"Miss Cross--!" the little scientist blurted out as she nearly stepped on him. She gave a choked cry of alarm, dancing around him awkwardly, falling against the table littered with toys and simple tests, sending them sailing and it tumbling over to flatten her to the floor. The only thing showing from underneath were her outstretched hands and feet. Fortunately for her it was mostly lightweight plastic. He crept forward nervously as she wasn't moving, asking tentatively, "Miss... _Cross?_"

From beneath the table came a muffled, "Can't a girl implode in peace around here?!"

"Well... at least let me help you up--" he began.

"No," she blurted out, and when he began to insist uncertainly, she exclaimed, "Shoo!" But she regretted it as she overheard whispered gossip from her colleagues, a whine of sorrow becoming a high pitched squeal as she fought to keep from crying. "I hate this job," she whimpered as she fought to get out from under the table, as it proved to be more awkward than she thought, finally squirming out from under it as her team and the Protopets both gaped at her in bewilderment. She sat the chair up irritably, plopping heavily into it as she held her head in her hands, fighting a loosing battle with misery. "I can't believe I'm still dressing like a teenager for that... damned lovable knothead. And this job... I really can't deal with this right now. How can I get out of this stupid mess for a while?"

A hand touched her shoulder. "Miss Cross--"

She gave a loud cry of alarm, jumping straight up and landing awkwardly in the chair, tumbling over with it. The portly man who had the startling misfortune to speak to her stumbled backwards into a shelf stand holding more toys and tests for the Protopets, knocking it away from the wall with a crash and falling beneath an avalanche of the colorful playthings. As Angela pulled herself angrily to her feet, ready to lay into the miscreant who dared scare her out of her wits a second time, she gasped as she saw that it was the head of Megacorp. "Oh! Mister Fizzwidget! I'm so sorry!"

He looked up at her, positioning his lenses on his nose. "I hear--" he blinked as a chew toy bounced off his baldness, "--that you're feeling a little... tense..." She helped him to his feet, then they both tried to begin a conversation several times unsuccessfully. Finally, Angela slunk over to right her upturned chair and sat down again, facing away from her boss in humiliation. He edged over to her, his hand curled near his mouth as he gazed at her in sympathy. He decided it was best to bluster through anything at all than remain silent, asking her gently, "Angela... is it because of Ratchet?"

"No!" she blurted out. "Yes! Ohh... I don't know..." She felt foolish, wishing she could just run away to her ship and disappear for a year, like she almost did when she lost Ratchet to Sasha. Unfortunately, bolts made the galaxy go round, and she was nowhere near able to retire.

He spread his mustache with a grimace, as he really could use her there with this new batch of Protopets to insure they were ready to be produced in numbers for a waiting market. But if she was like this, she was actually more trouble than use. "Angela... listen. You are one of my most valuable employees--" He stopped short as she looked up to him in sorrowful apology, and that gaze pierced his heart. "But... look, this isn't doing either of us any good, especially you. If you can wrap up your work today, and leave some comprehensive instructions for your team, why not take some time off at the close of business? Maybe... find Ratchet?"

She winced as she wanted to, desperately, but not only had she promised Ratchet she wouldn't pressure him so he could make a clear choice among three girls, she had no clue where he was. But then... as she thought about it, maybe she knew _someone_ who could find out. "You know, maybe you're right, Mister Fizzwidget." She stood and clasped his hand warmly, quickly regaining her old composure. "I really appreciate this, truly. You're not just a boss, but a good friend."

"Oh, well..." he began awkwardly, though he thought to himself, 'Also a boss who's going to have a key project delayed by as much as a week.' "I just... want the best for you."

On impulse, she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead, causing a deep cherry bloom on his cheeks. "Thank you again, Mister Fizzwidget." She drew a deep breath of relief, saying brightly for the first time that day, "Well... I'd better get those notes of mine compiled into something sensible for the guys."

He smiled to her warmly, blushing still from her kiss. "Lord bless ya, Angela, and enjoy the time off." He added to himself as she danced away excitedly, 'And if you can bring back that Ratchet fellow, all the better! Good hunting!'

As he wandered back to the lab entrance, the others, Protopets and all, wondered what the chief executive had told Angela to change her mood so drastically. "Golden parachute," one said with a nod, and everyone gave a little moan of jealousy.

She went smartly to her desk and felt a bit better about dressing like a hot teenager again as she centered her keyboard. "Now, to get this out of the way so I can..." Her voice drifted off as she noticed her message program was still up. Maximizing the image, she could see that it was still actively linked with Ratchet's starfighter, though it was evidently parked in the sunlight somewhere, as the ship was quiet and he was gone. "Mitzy," she asked her computer rather brightly, "where is Ratchet's ship?"

"Hmm, let me see..." she replied as she traced the signal. "Oh, whadya know! It's here on Endako, at that apartment he never uses."

She jumped to her feet, knocking the chair against the wall, almost panting for breath. "Ohmygosh... _here?_" As she was collecting her chair, she became angry. "Hey, wait a minute... and he didn't try to _contact me?!_ Oh... wait, how would I know, the... thing was still up." Feeling foolish, she sat at the keyboard once more and skimmed back through the message until a point near the end, some time last night.

_"Well?!" she cried, making him jump. "It's really cruel of you to go... leading me on like that! I mean--!"_

"Yikes..." she winced. "A little _too_ far." She wished she had that time back to do over again, but then... would it have gone any better, been any easier? She shook her head and advanced it a bit more.

_He was looking into the screen with a desperate gaze that melted her heart. "Angela... I made a promise to you--"_

_"I know," she sighed painfully, "...and I'm letting you break it."_

"Damn it," she whimpered, fast forwarding again. "_Why_ does my life have to be so complicated?" Finally, it seemed to come to the point she had spoken her last, Ratchet leaning forward to lay his head on the console, and she couldn't resist brushing her fingers across the screen, along the lines of his cheekfur.

_He moaned plaintively, "Ohh, Angela... how could I be so stupid, and put you through this? How can I make this up to you?"_

She sighed as her heart beat warm and fast from his tender admission, and she couldn't help herself. "You could... oh, I dunno... pick me? After all, I'm not such a bad choice, am I?"

_Ratchet murmured, reaching up to key something on the console, "If only... Clank was here to help me sort this all out..."_

She couldn't hold back a laugh at the thought of the little robot's reaction. "Are you kidding? He'd run away screaming."

_"Well, Ratchet..." the ship began gently, "you still haven't selected a flight plan. It's about time you thought of a destination, if you aren't going to return to Kerwan."_

_"You're right," he nodded as he drew back, blinking thoughtfully for a few moments, then punching in the hyperjump coordinates, bringing the ship around to head to the jump point. "Prepare for hyperjump to Endako."_

_"Endako?!" Aphelion exclaimed in perplexion. "Why? Uhm... are you going to see Angela Cross after all?"_

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Oh _please_ say yes!"

_He looked up with a dreamy gaze in his eyes, whispering the geneticist's name, but then shook his head vigorously as he realized what he was doing. "No! I mean... I'm going to my apartment there to pick up some gear." He whispered to himself, "Besides... if I did see her... I might not leave for days, if that..."_

At first, her heart sank at the way he so casually discarded her... or so she thought, as the following sentence burned in her heart like a candle. She replayed it, amplifying it to make sure she hadn't heard things, murmuring, "Ohh, you adorable little dork..."

And then it hit her once more, causing her to jump up, sending her chair clattering into the wall again. "What's wrong with me?! He's here... _I can see him!_" But then she remembered her promise, muttering, "Hold on, Angela... you know, you did tell him to make an impartial decision..." She stood still for a minute as she sorted out her feelings, then shook her head. "Oh, screw it," she blurted out as she began to hastily gather her things. "Uhm... Mitzy? Could you be a dear, and compile my notes on the last stages of Protopet Project Two so that even a teenager could understand them?"

"Aren't you selling your team just a _scouche_ short, Angela?" Then she said together with the Secsauri, "_Except for Delbert_ - yeah, I'll get right on that." As Angela headed for the door, the computer told her, "You have a good time, and make sure _loverboy_ sees the errors of dropping you like old news. Maybe... wear something skimpier."

She laughed as she hesitated at the door. "Mitzy, if I wore anything skimpier than this, I'd look like a prosss... uhh... _you know_."

"Hey, whatever works, sweetheart. Oh, and I'll be sure and keep that message open. I'm saving every nanosecond of it in case." Angela began to thank her, but the computer shooed her on her way. "Go, or you might miss the clueless little fuzzball."

Which was true. Calling a thanks over her shoulder, she dashed out into the open lab area, only to see that everyone was staring at her and her armload of belongings. "Uhm... going out for a... _power brunch!_ Yeah, so... I might be gone a while. So... see ya!" she said brightly, then bolted for the exit.

The males all muttered in near unison, "Gee, I'm sure gonna miss her..." Then as the women turned away in a huff, the guys hastened after their significant others to placate them, or try to.

* * *

Author's notes.

Okay, so this was very long and rather emotional, but I have a soft spot for romance. Unfortunately for Ratchet, he's had three romantic entanglements in the course of his adventures, and I couldn't resist having way too much fun with the three girls. I must admit that I also have a fondness for all three, so picking one wouldn't be too fair to the other two, especially at this point in the adventure.

The new elements I brought up in this huge chapter will be detailed in the course of the adventures, but I could talk a bit about Angela's computer, Mitzy. She is an artificial intelligence of course, though not all computers or robots are, as needless to say they are much more expensive. Also, artificial intelligences are granted certain rights under the Intercluster Articles of Sentient Rights. Her name comes from the initials of her manufactured name, Megacorp TC-1000, and when Angela gave the computer her pet name, she quietly rolled her digital eyes. But like Clank with Ratchet, the pair became good friends, and Angela relies on Mitzy for companionship and advice. She has the personality of a middle aged Jewish hairdesser, and likewise keeps tab on all the juicy gossip for Angela from across the cluster.

Another point would be how Doctor Nefarious can galavant around so freely after causing all the havoc he had in the game Up Your Arsenal. With robots and computers who get a little strange and do some sort of criminal act, rather than being incarcerated, they go through a period of "reprogramming," in which bits of code which reinforce the conscience are embedded. Because of robot's rights and other issues, the authorities are unable to reprogram them completely, as this would be akin to mind control, and the offenders are free to resist this programming if they so choose...


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: A web, weaving towards a center**

Darla Gratch was with her cameraman in the GNN editing room, watching her performance of the previous day in a state of befuddlement. Smiling as she usually did during a viewing of her takes to add a positive aire to the production, she couldn't keep an uncertain downturn from her expression. "This is all... very good, Flash," she told her cameraman, while adding under her breath, "Even though I can't remember half of it for some reason..."

"Hey, ya know, I gotta tell yas..." the hulking being muttered sheepishly in a thick Metropolis burrough accent, "that callin' me a dillweed? That... kinda hurt my feelin's... personal like, deep inside, ya know? I'm sensitive as all hell."

She nibbled a finger nervously as she tried to laugh it off. "Oh, Flash... a term of endearment! For a job well done! Uhm..." He didn't seem too convinced, looking down with a sniff and spitting on the floor. She swerved quickly back to the main monitor, watching in perplexion as she kept interrupting citizens and finishing their sentences for them. "Maybe I've been working too hard..."

"DARLA!"

They both jumped as the chubby Headlines Editor burst in on them, and she began hastily, "Now Chief, I can explain--"

"Don't bother! I could kiss you!" As the pair blinked in surprise, he bellowed on, "It's about time you showed those knot-heads at Vox a thing or two about cutting edge reporting! _This_ is the kind of stuff we needed to grab the viewer's attention from those yahoos! Keep this up, and I'm smellin' Spammies 'til the next millennium!"

"Really!" she beamed through a laugh, though she added to her cameraman quietly, "He _can't_ be serious... can he?"

As Flash gave her a shrug, the Chief's assistant came up behind him, showing the editor his tablet. "Woah... at this hour? I bet the coffee isn't even perked yet." He explained loudly, "Darla, sweetheart! The Metropolis Mayor's holding a press conference this morning at eight sharp! I want my star reporter there asking the tough questions! Don't take _no comment_ for an answer!"

"You bet, Chief!" she beamed at him. "If we can't find the facts, we'll make something up!" She blinked through her smile, murmuring to herself, "Now... where the faq did _that_ come from?"

He gaped at her for a moment, then exclaimed, "Hey... I love the way you think! You get ready, and I'll go cook the books to squeeze a few more bolts into that salary!"

As he stormed happily off, Darla and Flash blinked to each other, the reporter muttering, "I think I'd better have a scan after this... I may be coming down with a virus."

* * *

The eyes of Doctor Nefarious were practically burning as he dared anyone to speak to him, sitting in the plush seat of the starliner next to the viewport as the ship prepared for departure. It was humiliating, requiring the help of a stewardess to carry him to his seat, and to add insult to injury, a _squishie!_ Lawrence, his own head resting in the seat beside him, was never one to care one way or the other how his master felt, asking, "Are you going to eat that pack of peanuts, sir?"

The villain glared at his servant, snarling, "_You know damn well I'm not going to eat those frigging peanuts!_ Now stop bothering me while I'm fuming!"

"Oh, _thank you_ for your generosity, sir," Lawrence gushed in a suspiciously sarcastic way, then realized he had no arms to reach for them. "Oh dear," he murmured, then did his best to hop over, extending his tongue across the seat, hoping to pull the foil packet over to him.

Nefarious groaned in revulsion, "Lawrence, that's _disgusting!_" He coughed in dismay as the butler managed to flip the packet into his mouth, chewing it contentedly. "_Why_ do you insist on that repulsive squishy habit! You know food has no taste to a robot!"

Lawrence centered the morsel of crushed peanuts so he could talk. "Technically, sir, that is true. However, I do happen to have marvelously designed sensors in my tongue, as I am built to be a galaxy class chef as well. And I have yet to sample this particular strain of - _OH!!_"

The pair of bodiless robots gaped in alarm as black clad, heavily armored and well armed troops surrounded them, leveling their weapons at the pair as the rest of the passengers gawked at the sight in fascination. One of them declared through a helmet speaker, "Hands up! Oh... never mind. Are you - _eww!_"

The others flinched away, and Lawrence realized he had chunky peanut paste dribbling down his chin. "Oh, bother..."

"Tissue," the commander snapped to the others, and one dabbed at the servant's face with a Kwikie Wipe. As he finished and withdrew, the officer continued, "Are you SOZDRN D5RG68--?"

"Yes, _yes!_" Nefarious interrupted. "The whole universe knows who I am! Or... what's left of me, anyway. Now _what is the meaning of this!_" Having already given a brief account to the authorities, he sensed some legal shenanigans were afoot.

"You're under arrest!" the officer barked at him.

Nefarious' eyes bugged open in shock as he exclaimed, "On what charge?!"

"Warrant," he said curtly to one of his men, who held a tablet up for him. He began forcibly, though his voice grew less certain as he read, "Killing of millions of blades of grass, countless bugs... as well as innumerable... micro organisms..." He snapped back to his rigid, threatening stance, as did his men, their weapons aimed directly at the robot as many of the passengers shook their heads disapprovingly. "What do you have to say for yourself, little mister?"

Nefarious blinked at them incredulously, crying, "You dim witted storm trooper... you just described _a lawnmower!_"

The officer shrugged in reply. "Hey, I don't make the rules, I just enforce them." He motioned for one of the agents in the back to move forward. "Now, come along peaceably, lawnmower... not like you have much choice, since you're both just a couple of head units..."

The villain gaped at what the trooper was carrying in horror, his voice nearly a shriek. "You're putting us in... _hat boxes?!_"

The commander grumbled, "Hey, come on, it was short notice. Besides, they're padded."

Lawrence cut in quickly, eying the two pastel cartons, "Could I possibly trouble you for the blue one, please?"

"Sure," the leader nodded to his subordinate. "You've been pretty cooperative, unlike _some_ people." The passengers nodded in agreement.

As his servant wriggled with a sigh into the fluffy tissue filling his container, Nefarious cried shrilly, "_You are not putting me in a pink hat box!_ I will not tolerate this outrage! Lawrence, how _dare_ you do this to me!" As he berated and cursed them, snapping at their fingers as they stuffed him into the paisley carton, he screamed as they lowered the lid on him, "_LAAAAAAWREE--!!_"

They visibly blinked as the villain crashed and it finally became quiet in the starliner. The commander muttered, "Took him long enough to... wait a minute..." He leaned down to listen to the container holding Nefarious, as it sounded like a steamy soap opera was playing out inside.

"John... getting into your clothes with you... what a ravishing idea!"

As the others crowded around as well, Lawrence called from inside his box, "Would it be too much trouble to hold me next to his container? This episode is just getting good... yes, thank you."

* * *

Talwyn trudged back into the Station, her tail dragging, followed by the two robot guardians. Cronk drawled in his elderly voice, "I'm sorry Miss Talwyn. I was so fired up to go, it didn't even occur to me."

She shook her head, dropping her bags inside the door. "No, I was rushing you guys and not thinking. I didn't even remember to leave a message in case Clank showed up for some reason. Uhm... Zephyr, could you warm up that meal I made? I really want to get some potential destinations sorted out, and I'd appreciate it." When he replied that of course he would, she gave him a thankful smile, smiling even wider as she remembered he'd replaced that keyboard she'd smashed without thinking. "Now... to track you down, Ratchet, Apogee style."

It was amazing how much of a presence a person had on the nets, in spite of privacy safeguards. Talwyn was nearly able to retrace Ratchet's every move since leaving Veldin between news reports and net chatter as he garnered an ever greater following, which caused her to blink in surprise. "Ratchet has a _fan club?_ Who'd've thought?" She grimaced as she came upon information about the two ladies he'd become involved with in the course of his adventures, first _Angela Cross_, and then _Sasha Phyronix_, and she frowned in dismay as she studied them. "Damn it... they're so pretty... and Sasha was..." There were rumors of marriage surrounding the couple, but for whatever reason, things hadn't worked out, fortunately for either woman. This gave her hope in her own cause, and she resumed mining.

With the explosive popularity of the Agent Clank holovid series, the information base on the star's 'sidekick' grew even more. And then there was his ship, the starfighter Aphelion. She had made herself familiar with the Lombax starcraft, but there were a few technical details which would make it a little easier to track him down. And fortunately, Max had equipped the computers with a nice suite of 'investigative' tools to aid him in his own occasionally clandestine research. They were off limits to Talwyn except in an emergency, but... well, this was as much an emergency as anything, as she had to fend off two other eligible women more Ratchet's type.

Within an hour, she had managed to chart his course through the three galaxies almost to the day, with every address he retained. The computer had managed to hack into the Metropolis Starport Registry, but she was dismayed to learn that there was no flight plan filed. "Oh, that is so unfair!" she growled, but after calming herself down, she began to attack the dilemma logically. Sasha was the mayor of Metropolis, and... if he was leaving there, could he be on his way to the _third woman's_ world?

Angela Cross... _Doctor_ Angela Cross... employed by Megacorp... head of the genetic research lab... home location near an automated factory on Grelbin, but... with an apartment in the Megacorp homeworld of Endako, in Central City. She smirked irritably, "And wouldn't you know, Ratchet has an apartment in the same district. Well..." She was about to call when it struck her that she might not like what was going on there. But... wasn't that a reason to call, to cause trouble between them? Then again... what if nothing was going on, or he wasn't there? Or what if nothing was going on because it was _going on_ at _her_ apartment! She buried her face in her hands, moaning, "Ohh... I don't know... I'm too new at this stupid game! Why doesn't he just fall for me and get it overwith!"

Cronk and Zephyr did their best to back out of the room without banging into anything _too_ loudly, and Talwyn tried to ignore them as she made up her mind. Drawing a deep breath, she began typing. "Okay... and Ratchet? You'd _better_ have your clothes on if you want to live!"

* * *

As he poured through the equipment he'd left behind in the apartment for years, his mind was elsewhere, dwelling on three lovely girls, and the trouble he'd caused them.

_"I thought we were friends. You know, I want to help out when you're in trouble. You mean a lot to me, Ratchet! What about all that stuff we went through together!"_

He sighed to himself, "I know..."

_"In case you don't remember me all that well, what will all the women you seem to have become _acquainted _with in the past few years, I'm serious too. And I'm used to getting what I want."_

He blinked at that memory, still amazed at how that whole scene had played out. "Man, do I _ever_ know..."

_"I'm sorry, it's just that... there really isn't... anyone like you in the whole universe... and to say the things you said to me, just to go running off to face heaven knows what... it's hard, just to sit here and let you... not even getting the chance to see you again. This... image on the screen, it's just not... enough."_

Ratchet closed his eyes with an unhappy breath. "Angela... I know. I'm really sorry I put you through this. You're right... it's not fair to you... to any of you." His eyes fell open on the pile of old gear he'd accumulated over the years, grumbling, "Crap... I'd better quit sulking and get on with this, or I'll be here all day. Maybe I should just take it all."

He tried to focus on his task, and somewhere deep inside, was aware of the pestering by nano-Clank as the little phantom followed him around, but he couldn't keep from returning to the problem which burned in his heart. The nano-id fretted over Ratchet, perplexed over this odd change in personality he was going through. "Honestly, Ratchet... this emotional, romantic mood you have fallen into recently is so unlike you. I do not think it is because of the threat you face, but... what could be the cause?" And then it occurred to him, and he looked up to his friend with a smile. "Are you... _finally_ maturing into an adult?"

Similar questions were bothering Ratchet. 'I've never been like this before... I can hardly think straight. This isn't like me at all, but, I can't get those girls out of my mind. I screwed up everything so bad... and Angela's right. I was such a bone-head to them... it wasn't fair. I wasn't thinking. But... how do I make things right, without hurting someone?'

He looked out the large windows onto the dazzling cloud-dotted skies of Endako, thinking sadly of how similar it had been when his step-parents had set off for a second honeymoon when he was a teenager... never to see them again. There had been some kind of failure, a terrible crash, and neither one had survived. And what was worse, he realized later that they were probably going to try one more time to have a child... a brother or sister he would never get to know. He couldn't imagine a more horrible year.

He trudged away from the pile of gear to sit down on the couch in front of the big screen, aching to have someone to speak to, and finally just began talking. "Dad, mom... I really need you now. I miss you both _so bad_... and I need some advice." He clutched his hands into fists out of frustration. "Why did you have to leave me? It's not fair! I barely learned anything about life. I'm confused. Just when I needed you both the most... _you weren't there anymore_..."

The nano-id felt a pang of sorrow at this confession, drifting up to settle beside his friend. "Ratchet..." he began softly, "I never knew. You kept this to yourself all these years? Why? Why did you not share it with me?" He lay his head on his friend's leg, murmuring, "When you get into such a state, you can either hear me plainly or not at all. But I want you to know that I understand, and wish with all my being to help you with this burden. You have been my dearest friend... please, let me comfort you."

Ratchet had the eerie feeling that he was being listened to, looking to the sky outside. "Mom, dad? Are you there? Please... _talk_ to me. Is that it... is that why I'm afraid to get close to anyone... besides Clank? Am I afraid I'll lose them too?" He looked beside himself sadly, where Clank would be sitting, muttering, "Forget that... I can't even protect my best friend..."

The little bot sat up, gazing with sympathy into his friend's eyes. "Ratchet, do not torment yourself like that. There was nothing you could do. Please, if you hear nothing else, hear this. _There was nothing you could do!_"

The Lombax gazed down at the carpet between his boots with a smirk. "I'm sure Clank would tell me I was being stupid, that I couldn't do anything to keep him from being kidnapped. But... that's not really good enough for me." He got up, sending the unseen bot flipping across the couch, going to stand in the sunlight of the broad, curved windows. "Look... I need to know what to do. Not about Clank... well, besides Clank. I have three wonderful girls that mean the world to me, and I really upset them. What do I _do!_ I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. But I don't want to be alone any more either. So... who should I want? Which one would I make the happiest? How did you two know you were right for each other? How can I know? Mama, dad... _I need to know!_" He stood there silently, waiting for an answer that he had enough sense to know wouldn't come, then after a few moments had passed, turned to resume his task, muttering, "I'll be lucky if Talwyn ever wants to talk to me again."

"That's not true."

He was so startled that he dove behind the couch with a cry, peering above it, wrench at the ready, only to see the face of the young Apogee on the big screen looking to him hopefully. "I'm... sorry, Ratchet. I didn't mean to scare you..."

He got to his feet, fighting down a mess of conflicting emotions, and unsure of whether he should be outraged or grateful. "How... long have you been on?"

"Not long," she told him, looking away with a shrug, but he got the impression it was longer than he would like. "Listen... I wanted to apologize about... blowing up like that--"

"No, no," he interrupted, going around to take his seat once more, unaware of the little bot watching him invisibly. "I was being an idiot. It wasn't right... putting you through all that. If it's any consolation, the others had the same reaction." 'For the most part,' he recalled of Sasha's reaction, and mentally crossed his fingers.

"Others?" Talwyn asked with a blink, and Ratchet began to push himself into the couch anxiously, dreading another outburst. But he was relieved when she shrugged it off with a laugh. "Oh, Ratchet, what's gotten into you? You're so different now..." Her voice trailed to silence as her gaze wandered over his form to settle into his, and it was a long quiet moment before he found his voice again.

"I... don't know," he began softly. "I've been asking myself that same question all morning." His stomach reminded him that it was afternoon now and he hadn't eaten yet, though he shrugged it off. "So... how did you find me?"

"Oh, lucky guess... mostly..." she replied, looking evasive again.

'Yeah, right,' he grumbled to himself. 'I bet you put my entire life in that computer.' But his ire faded quickly, and he admitted to her with a chuckle, "I'm glad you did, though. I... wanted to call you, but... I didn't think you'd want to hear from me."

"Well, you have a lot to learn about women," she told him with a smile, and in his mind he emphatically agreed. "So... I guess you're going to head out soon... and go rescue Clank." It was more an admission than question.

"Yeah," he nodded to her, hoping things wouldn't get complicated in the next few moments, as that was what had caused trouble the first time. "I... really should be getting ready, but... it's sure nice to talk to you again." Much as she had done, his eyes wandered over her form, taking in every curve to memory, then settled into her glistening eyes.

"Ratchet, uhm..." She licked her lips nervously, as she was obviously fighting the urge to ask to come along. "What will you do? This can't be a normal fight for you."

That was the understatement of the decade. The Zoni were bad enough. Adding Tachyon and his insane mind games... that almost made it intolerable, but he was determined to show both of them he wouldn't lose. "Yeah, I know. But I'm going to make sure I'm equipped to deal with anything they throw at me."

"Ratchet..." she began, gritting her teeth as she held herself back, "you know I want to come along. But... won't you take _someone_ with you? Like Qwark. I know he's kind of a dork, but he's strong, and you need someone to watch your back since Clank isn't there."

He had to laugh as he recalled the many times the 'hero' wilted to a pile of goo. "Yeah, he'd watch my back from _way_ back!"

"Ratchet, come on now," she scolded him. "He's really trying, and you need _someone_ for backup."

He frowned at himself as he agreed with her, having grown too used to picking on Qwark out of habit. "Yeah, I guess that's true. But really..." He gazed beside himself at the vacant couch where Clank had sat beside him so often, and had the feeling it wasn't so vacant. When Talwyn prodded him, he continued, "I won't be alone. And I'll be careful, no unnecessary risks. I promise."

She gave him dubious look. "_Raaatchet?_ Come on, seriously..."

He blinked at how well everyone knew him. Taking chances was just his style. Fibbing _ever so_ slightly, he told her, "No, I know what's at stake here. But I'm not going to lose, it's just not happening."

She gave a sigh of resignation, knowing that he was going to have to do things his way. "Yeah, I can see that, and it's one of the things about you that's so cool." She edged closer to the screen as he blushed, adding quietly, "One of many things..."

He found himself standing before her, his eyes locked in her own jewels as they shined back from the holovid screen, his breath growing shallow as he shared in the emotions pouring out from the young girl's heart. Finally, he found his voice, murmuring softly, "Talwyn... I really have to go. I've still got a lot to do. But, when I come back... we'll have that talk. I promise."

This caused the nano-id to cringe, and he shook his head uncertainly. "Ratchet... I do hope you know what you are doing _this_ time. Because, if you do _not_, I will personally assist these women when they skin you alive."

She beamed at him with a warm smile. "I'd like that, Ratchet. Uhm... I guess I should let you go then, but... I just wanted to..." She sat there, her mouth working silently as she wrestled with some inner dilemma, then before he knew it, her lips were pressed to the screen. He closed his eyes, wondering what those lips would feel like against his, wondering if it would be the best thing to let her go along and... give in to her advances. He heard her giggling, his eyes popping open as he caught her whispering, "You're so cute--" Coughing self-consciously as she realized what she was saying, she went on more distinctly, "Uhm, I mean... good luck, Ratchet. And... whoever you're taking along had better be more than the memories of Clank. If I find out you're going alone, I'll knock you stupid!"

He couldn't keep from cringing under even that mild threat, muttering, "Well... sure. I mean... it's definitely someone I trust with my life." The nano-id had to chuckle at the exchange, and the double truth of it.

"Well, okay..." she smirked at him, doubt visible on her face, but she let it drop. "Take care, Ratchet, and... hurry back to me. Please?"

He nodded, replying in a voice just above a whisper, "I will... I promise, before you know it."

"Okay... thanks," she murmured, fidgeting as she wished to drag this out a bit more, but abruptly said to him, "Bye," before ending the signal.

Talwyn sat there, gazing forlornly at the screen as the heads of her two robot guardians poked from around a doorway behind her. "You can come in, guys," she informed them a bit tiredly without looking. "I'm finished."

Clomping and whirring, they approached her cautiously, unsure of her emotional state. Cronk being the more forward - sometimes reckless one, asked her, "Er... Miss Talwyn? Are we goin' after that scalawag?"

"Well of course," she grinned over her shoulder at him, then turned back to the computer. "Buuut... first, I'm... trying to work up the nerve to... oh, hell with it." She began typing in the IGNet listing she'd come across for a certain feloid's work number.

Unfortunately, a message screen came up with her image on it, and her recorded voice played back cheerfully, "Hi, you've reached the office of Doctor Angela Cross. I'm sorry I missed your call. I'm going to be away from the office for two weeks or so, but leave a message, and I'll get right back with you."

"What?!" she exclaimed heatedly, jumping to the obvious conclusion. "Why... that figures! Ratchet, you two timing--!" Her robot companions made warning noises at the same moment she realized she was being recorded, and she fought to get hold of herself. "Uhmm... hi! I mean, uh, this is Talwyn Apogee, and, uhm... I was calling to see if you had any information on where--"

"_Miss Apogee_..." interrupted an artificial voice. "Hello, I'm Mitzy, Angela's personal assistant. How can I _help_ you... this lovely day?"

She grit her teeth as she fumed to herself, but managed to keep her anger in check. "Well, actually, I, uhh... wrong number, sorry."

"_Hold on_, sweetheart," Mitzy said commandingly as Talwyn began to reach for the End key. "I have a feeling you're _just_ the person I need to talk to. Now listen, girl to... well, _girl_, can you tell me just what the hell Ratchet is involved in?"

"Why should I help you?" she blurted out without thinking, but then she did, and it made her increasingly anxious. "Wait, you mean... Angela doesn't _know?_"

"That's why I'm asking..." the computer remarked dryly.

"Oh my gosh... Ratchet, you idiot! Uhm, anyway, listen... he's about to jump headlong into something really dangerous. He must know something more than I do, because he makes it sound like the worst thing ever."

"Oh, felgercarb..." the assistant muttered. "Well, start at the beginning, give me the Galactic Digest version, and we'll go from there." And as Talwyn began relating the information she'd been able to compile, Mitzy became increasingly afraid...

* * *

The image of that yearning gaze haunted Ratchet as he sat back down on the couch, wishing that he was doing anything _but_ getting ready to head off into battle. The words of Angela came to him just then: '_When you're with each one of us, that girl becomes the most important thing in the world to you at the time._'

"Angela... you're so right..." He looked to the screen with the Jak & Daxter saver on it still, wishing she would call, or Sasha. "Both of them," he murmured, "I need to know who I would be best for. Ohh... I'm so confused..." He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands, whimpering, "Mama... who would you say I'm good for?"

"Ratchet!" nano-Clank exclaimed, bouncing beside him. "I am proud of you for putting their wellbeing before your own desires, but you must get on with this! You can fret about your affairs later! You must eat something of nutritional value, and you must actually begin sleeping properly in order to be at your best! This will be no small task, I assure you!"

"I know, I know," he grumbled, getting to his feet as the little nano blinked in surprise. "It's just like Clank is here, nagging me..."

Then his voice trailed off, and he looked right at the stunned phantom as he put his metallic hand to his mouth in alarm, wondering if something was wrong and he had materialized somehow. But he heaved a sigh of relief as Ratchet turned to wander back to his pile of old gear. As he clambered down to totter over to his friend, the nano-id muttered to himself, "When this is all over, I am going to _have_ to study the organic psyche, and learn how in the world this is possible!"

Ratchet caught himself looking to the big screen wistfully, hoping that Angela might give him a call too. 'She is in the city... so close, and I wish I could confide in her... if only it wouldn't drag things out so much...'

* * *

Her hand hovered over the Message button for the umpteenth time, and then her fingers curled into a fist, slamming it into the dash of her aircar out of frustration. She growled through clenched teeth with a savagery which would have sent anyone nearby diving for cover, "How in hell do you manage to have a collision between _two blimps!_"

Up ahead, beyond the line of stalled traffic, two dirigibles were jammed together at crazy angles, completely blocking the airlane Angela was in. Checking her watch, she cringed at how much time had passed already, gunning the engines and winging her vehicle over, pulling outside of the airlane and heading the other way. "Hell, everyone else does it anyway, and if I don't, I'll miss Raa_AAAH!_"

She forgot that the next lane over was the freeway, and she swerved desperately as craft after honking craft zoomed at her, and stunned drivers likewise fought to avoid her as she flew against traffic. Finally, shaking like a leaf, she found clear airspace, gasping, "That... wasn't so bad. I bet Ratchet would be impreaa_AAAH!_" She inadvertently flew into a floating billboard, smashing right through it, debris clattering across her aircar's fuselage. "_Damn_ it, I just had this thing painted - oh, there's the lane I want!"

Unfortunately, it was crowded from traffic diverted from the blimp accident, and the flyers in the lane weren't too happy to see a lane jumper trying to squeeze in. As she drifted outside of it, she whined, trying unsuccessfully to nudge into narrow gaps between craft. "Guys, come on, please? I have to see my boyfriend before he disap--" She blinked as her screen beeped, indicating an infraction as she passed a lane marker, added to the others incurred from her unintended daredevil aerobatics. Drifting back towards a gap, she groaned as the driver behind closed the space on her with an angry look. Then her system beeped again, indicating another infraction. "Oh for crying out loud, let me in!" Her display beeped again, and she had to fight down the urge to unleash some choice language and reckless flying on everyone within range. Then she wanted to scream. "Damn it, I missed my exit! Thanks a lot, _ashwholes!_"

She pulled another wingover manoeuver, yelling, "Shut up!" at her computer as it registered three more infractions, struggling to keep herself remotely under control and within speed restrictions, but it wasn't working. And then just as she was about to merge with the exit lane, the worst happened as a police airbike flashed it's lights at her. Fighting back tears as she slowed to a hover, she pulled out her license, mashing it against the canopy as she began to wail to the bewildered traffic bot, "This is _so unfaaair!_"

It wasn't until she finally caught the cop telling her, "--Do that again, kay?" that she noticed she hadn't been issued a ticket, and her infractions had been cleared. Blowing her nose, she waved at the officer as he flew off, calling, "Uhm... thank you! Have a nice day!" Stuffing the tissue into a trash port, she groaned as she noticed the time. "Oh... wonderful. I bet he's long gone by now." Eying the Message key on her console and wishing she would just go ahead and use it, she whimpered, "Oh, Ratchet... _please_ be there when I arrive..."

* * *

Sasha dropped her handbag beside the desk and fell heavily into the plush chair in the Mayor's office. This day had been an ordeal, but the biggest part of it had been that press conference. The reporters acted like sandsharks in a feeding frenzy.

_"Is this resignation in response to your dropping poll numbers?"_

_She blinked at the reporter. "What poll numbers? But, wait... that's irrelevant. I didn't get into this office to score approval ratings, but to serve and govern as best I can. If you think otherwise--"_

_"So why _are_ you resigning?" asked another._

_"Information has come to my attention concerning matters I'm not presently at liberty to disclose, but I have chosen to act on it by returning to active duty in the Solana Galactic Fleet--"_

_"Does it have anything to do with the recent havoc wrought on this city by the Lombax known as Ratchet?" Darla Gratch called to her._

_Sasha fixed the robot in a curious gaze. "Miz Gratch, I must say that, for a once stellar member of the press, your reporting lately has taken on a rather questionable tone..."_

_She blinked in astonishment as the robot's head sagged forward, and she began sobbing, burying her face in her hands. "I know... I don't know what's wrong with me! I hope I'm not _pregnant!_" As everyone gaped at her in stunned disbelief, she made a mad dash for the exit, bowling several cameramen aside in her haste, including her own._

_Sasha held her own head as she dropped some fizzy pain killers into a glass at the podium. "I... can _not_ believe this..."_

She gave a heavy sigh, exasperation mixed with relief that it was just a memory now, murmuring aloud, "What in the world is wrong with the universe these days?" She sat up straight at her desk as the intercom buzzed, assuming the businesslike manner of a public official. "Sasha here."

Her assistant popped up on a screen. "Sasha, Special Unit Nine just returned with Doctor Nefarious and his butler. They've been taken to the main interrogation room at Police HQ."

"Excellent! I'm on my way," she said, closing the line and grabbing her bag. "I can't _wait_ to hear what Nefarious has to say."

* * *

"I didn't know you could do... so _many_ things with a hairbrush," the woman giggled.

Sasha was appalled, gaping at the two robots in dismay as a lurid soap opera spewed from the villain's frozen wide jaws. "This... _has_ to be some kind of bad joke..." Captain Mac'O'Malley nudged a glass of water into position as the feloid absently dropped two more fizzie tablets from a foil pouch.

Lawrence looked around at the assembled officers, most of them trying not to look engrossed, and only the black helmeted Special Unit troopers succeeding, thanks to their concealed faces. "Errr... well, as much as I _personally_ would like to catch the rest of this, I suppose it's best to get this overwith. Just rap the _good Doctor_ smartly upside the head, and he should come right to."

Sasha motioned for an officer to stop as she gulped down the effervescent drink. "I'll do it," she told him, grabbing his police baton and giving a sharp bang! to the side of the robot's head.

"-_EEEENCE!_" the villain finished bellowing in outrage, then sat their blinking as he realized he wasn't in a hatbox any more. "Ohh, _shift_."

"Nice to see you too, Nefarious," Sasha told him with a smile. "_You_ have a lot of explaining to do. Now, I'm a busy girl, and this hasn't been a good day for me, so let's drop the pleasantries and get right to the point, shall we?" Leaning forward, baton tightly in hand, she yelled in his face, "_What the flock is going on!_"

"What do you mean?!" Nefarious cried in alarm, his eyes glancing to the baton. "I gave my deposition already!" And then recovering a bit, he grew belligerent. "That's right, I gave my remarks and was released! You have nothing on me, and your heavy handed sham of an arrest is illegal!

"While that _is true_," Sasha admitted slyly, tapping the baton in her hand, "a _deposition_ is a testimony under oath to be used in a subsequent court case. But you had no intention of remaining in Metropolis, or even on Kerwan, boarding a flight to your home world of... Daxx, was it?"

"This place is boring!" the robot growled. "And a court case could take months--!"

"Furthermore," she interrupted, swinging a monitor around on a swivel arm where he could see it, "we have some interesting images taken from security cameras located around the city." A blurry image came up of a robot which resembled Lawrence, with an out of focus figure standing on it's shoulder, waving a fist. She cut off Nefarious as he began to protest. "And as we enhance these images, clearing away the digital noise..." On cue, a process swept over the screen in three passes, sharpening the image and bringing out all the incriminating detail of the blue robot. "Why... it looks _just like_ you. Imagine that."

At first, Nefarious gaped at the image in alarm, but then he began bluffing. "That's just a trick! Your Gestapo tactics won't cut the mustard in any court of law!" With the right lawyer, that could be true, and he was more than rich.

Sasha tapped her chin mockingly. "While that _might_ be true... I neglected to mention something. I'm no longer the Mayor. I returned to active duty in the Solana Navy."

As this sank in, his eyes grew round and wide. "You... _what?!_"

"That's right," she told him with a malicious smile as the others nodded to her. "You're speaking with _Captain_ Phyronix, and this is now a matter of Naval affairs." She leaned forward with unnerving eagerness. "Nefarious, listen... I can be a reasonable girl. I'm going to give you a choice. We can follow the nicer, semi-legal civil process, _or_... I can resort to the _undisclosed-to-the-public results-at-any-price_ Naval techniques." She emphasized each word with a baton-thump to his head. "So, how would you rather proceed?"

The robot looked aside angrily as all the cards had been slapped from his hands. "Oh, faqing hell--!"

He gaped at her in terror as the baton rang down hard on his metallic seat. "That's not a proper answer, Nefarious!"

He cried in astonishment as Lawrence blinked in shock, "Okay, _okay!_ Just... give me a moment to sort things out!" Looking down as he organized his thoughts, he growled bitterly, "It all began on Mukow when that idiotic bug of an emperor, Tachyon, spoke to me..."

* * *

Sasha once again flopped into her cushioned chair at her desk, rubbing her forehead as her mind swam with countless thoughts. "Nefarious _had_ to be telling the truth. I just about scared the crap out of him. But... what does it all mean?" For that matter, how could the information about Emperor Tachyon's fate be so contradictory? She looked to her computer and began to draw the keyboard over, but she was so drained that afternoon, she decided to go vocal, saying to it, "Computer." When the screen came up, she told it, "Emperor Tachyon... reference: recent fate... sort by category." She watched as the screen divided in half, articles and net entries flooding both sides. Half of the cluster had it that someone, consensus being Ratchet, had destroyed Tachyon in a showdown on the deserted planet Fastoon. The other half were sure Tachyon had managed to escape, and returned to planet Kortog where he continued to dole out video proclamations to his 'adoring' subjects. Flipping through the entries did nothing but deepen the mystery, as both sides were adamant they were correct. "Nefarious is sure he met with Tachyon, but if he did, why doesn't he make an open public appearance? This persistent rumor has to be destabilizing his empire, and making for a potentially dangerous situation in Polaris." She pushed the keyboard away in perplexion. "This doesn't make any sense... how can this _be?_"

She blinked, sitting up as her assistant buzzed her. "Sasha, there's a Miss Apogee on the line for you."

She gaped at the screen in alarm, beginning thoughtlessly, "Oh, _shi_--" She just managed to cover her mouth in time, thinking frantically of the best course of action, but as the moments passed, she thought it would be best to get it overwith, saying a bit faintly. "Thank you, I'll... take it now." As her finger poised over the button, she grumbled to herself, "What in hell is that girl doing calling _me?_"

And then the image came up, and Sasha gasped in dismay. 'Oh my gosh... she looks pretty... and young... and, oh, my God, that figure...' She glanced down at her own body self-consciously, wincing. 'I look as straight as a ruler next to her.' And then she realized with a start that she hadn't said a word, while Talwyn looked increasingly distressed. "Uhm... hello," she said at last, though without any strength to her voice. "I'm Mayor Sasha Phyronix. What can I do for you?"

"Hi, uh... listen, uhm..." she began a few times, struggling to find a coherent opening line, and finally dropping all pretense. "Miss Mayor... you're Ratchet's friend, aren't you?"

"You Apogee's sure don't waste any time getting to the point..." The Cazar girl drew a deep breath in resignation as Talwyn marveled at how pretty she was. "Yeah... listen, why don't we just... drop our guard, and introduce ourselves. It'll ease the tension. Call me Sasha. And you're...?"

"Talwyn," she told the Mayor with a thin smile. "It's... really nice to meet you." When Sasha returned the complement, she went on awkwardly, "I really didn't mean to... bother you or anything, but I'm really worried. I'm trying to figure out where Ratchet's going, and he was there yesterday. So..."

"I hate to disappoint you," Sasha smirked to her, "but we're in the same boat. I'm going crazy just trying to figure out what he's going up against."

The girl's eyes opened wide. "You don't know _either?_" She clenched her teeth nervously as she looked aside, sorting things out. "I have to tell you... I think Ratchet's leaving with Angela Cross. I just called her office, and she's on leave for two weeks--"

The Cazar girl's eyes opened wider as Talwyn related her suspicions, and at the mention of the suspiciously meaningful span of Angela's leave, she finally exploded. "_What?!_ Why that no good two timing _basst--!_" She managed to get hold of herself as she grabbed her keyboard. "I can't believe the audacity of that hair-brained cowboy. When I get my claws on him, and if he lives, he's going to wish he hadn't!"

"Can I kill him too?!" Talwyn asked excitedly.

Sasha couldn't restrain a malicious chuckle. "Sister, when I'm finished with him, he's all yours."

Her almost gleeful smile faded as she came back down to earth, the severity of the situation weighing on her. "Sasha, listen... I'm worried for Angela. See, I called her office and talked to her assistant, and she doesn't know--"

"Hi! Hey, this is Mitzy, Angela's personal assistant. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miz Mayor."

Sasha blinked at the screen as a third voice sounded over the speaker, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Uhm... hello." She began absently drawing a foil pouch of fizzies from her bag with a sigh, then when she realized what she was doing, she put them back irritably. "I've had enough of these today already," she muttered, causing Talwyn to flinch as she gave her a perturbed look. "It would have been _nice_ to know you were there at the _start_, Mitzy."

"Uhm... sorry," Talwyn muttered, looking aside. "I kinda forgot..."

"Hey, listen, don't give the kid a hard time." the computer told Sasha. "She's had to deal with a lot today, and I would'a hacked in if I found out about the call anyway."

"All right, all right," Sasha murmured, shaking her head with a bewildered smile. "And listen... if I said anything improper about Angela--"

"Nah, sweetheart, you're just fabulous. Besides, it's Ratchet's fault for making things complicated... _really_ complicated. I mean, what is it with these guys anyway?"

As Sasha began to laugh in agreement, Talwyn cut in anxiously. "Guys! I mean, you guys! Listen, I'm worried about Angela. She has no idea what she's getting into!"

Sasha sat up straight in her seat, nodding as she tried to settle into that Naval mindset that tackled issues head on. "You're right. We really need to set aside our differences until this is resolved, and come up with some sort of plan of action--" Just then, several things she had gleaned from her reading hit her at once, and she blurted out to a stunned Apogee, "Talwyn! Oh, I should have asked this at the start. Be a dear, and... _please_ tell me you know something substantial about all this!"

"Just tell her what you told me, sweetheart," Mitzy advised her.

"Right... and I do," Talwyn said, drawing a deep breath to settle herself. "It all started when Ratchet was fighting Emperor Tachyon as well as the Space Pirates to try and find the Lombax Secret. Ratchet didn't know that there were these little... things involved that call themselves the Zoni. They're like small robots or androids, and they can't be detected until they choose to reveal themselves."

"Slow down, hon." Sasha blinked at her in bewiderment. "Zoni? I've never..." Her voice drifted off as she wondered if perhaps, in her childhood, she _had_ heard of some name like that. "Computer. Zoni. List references--"

"Don't do that," cautioned Mitzi, and the Cazar saw why. "You'll get a million listings to a starpunk band, laundry soap, an aircar, shampoo, polish..."

As she canceled the search, Talwyn blurted out, "Oh! Cross reference bot-nappings!"

That caused Sasha's stomach to knot, and she had to swallow before she gave the command for the search, and as the screen filled with entries, her eyes began to open wide. "Oh, good heavens... you mean, these things really exist, and they've been here, making off with robots for _centuries?_"

"We don't know how long, but if you look at the entries, it's an average of every hundred years. And it's everywhere, in every known galaxy!"

"Unbelievable..." she murmured. "Talwyn, I want to read this, but keep going. I'll be listening to every word."

"Okay," she nodded. "Anyway, they were helping Clank through all this to assist Ratchet in his fight against Tachyon and the Pirates. The Zoni even helped them find me in Zordoom Prison. I know the legends say they're like guardian angels or something, but I get the feeling they helped me because I was useful to them. It seems pretty clear to me that they were intent on botnapping Clank all along, and everything they did was organized around clearing out threats to him. That's undoubtedly why they helped Ratchet, so he could defeat Tachyon."

"Hold it on that point." Sasha faced the screen, asking, "So, Ratchet really _did_ defeat Tachyon... is that correct?" Talwyn nodded to her assuredly, causing the Cazar to frown in dismay. "Listen, there is a _huge_ discrepancy in all this that you can help clear away once and for all. Now, I want you to tell me to the best of your recollection just _exactly _what happened to Tachyon."

"Okay," the girl murmured, looking down as she sorted through her memories of Ratchet's retelling. "See... it's kind of a long story, but Ratchet found the Lombax Secret. However, it ended up in Tachyon's hands. There was--"

Sasha held up her hand. "What is the Lombax Secret?"

Talwyn grew uncomfortable, muttering evasively, "Well... it's kind of a _secret_, ya know?"

"I know. But Talwyn," she said pointedly, "I'm going to be in a position of authority very soon, with people under my command, and I must know what I might have to deal with." As the girl still looked reluctant, she added, "Don't worry, I'll protect Ratchet's secret too. This is strictly confidential."

Although she still didn't seem too sure of this, she gave a shrug of resignation. "Okay... it's called a Dimensionator. It's kind of like a rift inducer, but it opens portals."

"Portals?" Sasha asked curiously. "To where?"

"To anywhere, any universe, literally. It's what was used at the end of the Great Cragmite War to banish the Cragmites to some small dimension, and then by Ratchet's father to help the Lombaxes flee this universe when Tachyon threatened to destroy them all."

Sasha blinked thoughtfully for a moment. "So, that's what happened to them all... _amazing_. And you say Ratchet has this device now?"

"Yeah..." Talwyn nodded, wanting to change the subject. "Anyway, there was a big fight, and I don't know if it was a malfunction or what, but it pulled Tachyon into some kind of side dimension, and he took Ratchet and Clank with him." Even though it obviously turned out well, it still caused Sasha to gasp in alarm. "I know," Talwyn sighed. "We thought we'd lost them, and it was close, but Tachyon fell into a void, and that's the last anyone saw of him."

That caused Sasha to frown in consternation. "Well... that's what bothers me. You see, I just returned from threatening Doctor Nefarious to within an inch of his digital life, so I know without a doubt that what he told me was the truth as far as he understood it. And he told me directly that he met Tachyon _in person_, and more than once."

Talwyn drew back as if in fear. "But... how can that be possible...?"

"I don't know." The Cazar woman shook her head with a sigh. "Well... we'll just have to sort that out later. Go ahead with your story."

"Oh, yeah, right, uhm..." She closed her eyes, fighting to retrace her mental steps. "Oh yeah. At that point, he used the Dimensionator to make it back to the station, and we thought it was all over. But that's when the Zoni made their move." Sasha's ears perked up and she focused intently on Talwyn's account, and the girl's voice became strained as she related what happened next. "There was nothing on our sensors... they just appeared out of nowhere, a group of five or six of them just... hovering in the air. They were covered by some sort of energy field, flying around Ratchet, and... then they surrounded Clank." She had to draw a breath as this was a difficult memory for her. "They, uhm... kept calling him 'sire,' and then they snared him with some kind of energy field, lifting him into the air. They said he had some kind of... destiny to fulfill. Clank was still talking, but... he didn't sound right, like... he was in a dream, or... or they were controlling him or something. And Ratchet was angry, threatening them, but they ignored him like... he didn't matter. And when they rose overhead, he jumped for them, but... there was a flash, and..." She drew a noisy breath, finishing quietly, "He... _wasn't there anymore_... and, poor Ratchet... _he was just... crushed_..." She faced away, snuffling and wiping her eyes.

Sasha's ears lay back in reaction, looking down as she brought her hands to her mouth, aching in sympathy from Talwyn's emotional display. "Oh, my gosh... no wonder Ratchet was so upset... and adamant that no one go with him..."

"But we have to!" Talwyn blurted out, turning back. "We can't let him face these monsters alone!"

"I know," Sasha assured her, forcing herself to look back at her listings. "But... we also have to face this logically. Like... have you read these accounts of the Zoni abductions?"

"Oh, yeah, a dozen times over the past week, "she grumbled. "I quit because they're so discouraging."

"Talwyn," Sasha said to her gently, "I know this is difficult for you because you had to experience it, but in order to solve this enigma, we're going to have to face it, and study it, and know it. Have you noticed any patterns? It seems like every robot which was abducted was rather infamous in it's own right, and almost every one which I read of was severely crippled from some mishap, or threatened by one. Was Clank damaged, that you recall?"

"No, Ratchet was unconscious, but Clank as fine." She gave a melancholy chuckle. "He even wanted to help carry Ratchet to the infirmary."

"That would be just like him." Sasha gave her a thin smile, nodding, then turned back to her listings. "There's another troubling aspect to this mystery. None of these abducted robots ever returned, or made contact afterward, as far as I've seen."

"There was one." Sasha faced sharply to the girl as she continued. "Max Capture made contact with his closest friend right after he disappeared, Poindexter Grundies, the one who built him. It was only one message, but it was something."

Sasha gave her a smile of encouragement. "I knew you would be a big help in this, and I'm going to need a lot more." She looked to her screen again with a frown. "Unfortunately, if Clank is only going to be able to give one message to a friend, that would be Ratchet, and I doubt he's going to share anything with us, unless we can somehow force him to." She scanned over the entry on Max Capture, and the brief description of the message he sent to his friend, blinking as a curious word came up. "Guardian?"

"I know," Talwyn said to her. "I'm wondering about that too. I think all these robots became Guardians... whatever that means."

"Yes... but what are they guarding?" Sasha poked through the listings, growing frustrated. "There's just not enough information on this... and I find that hard to believe, with something of this magnitude. There must be some data available that's hard to come by with a basic search." She grabbed her keyboard and began typing away. "I'm going to use my prerogative as a Navy Captain to perform a deep search of every available file on the Zoni and their history. If it's on a computer somewhere, I'll find--"

"Don't."

Sasha looked up sharply to see Talwyn staring at her with a fearful expression. "_Don't_..." the girl repeated, a quaver in her voice. "Don't do it, Sasha, _please don't_."

She blinked at the girl in bewilderment. "What are you saying?"

Mitzy asked the question on the verge of Sasha's lips. "Talwyn, sweetheart, what's the matter?"

"I'm..." she began in a faint voice, drawing a deep breath to calm herself. "I'm afraid... that's why my father disappeared. I have a feeling he tried too hard to learn about the Zoni."

Sasha examined the girl's features closely, and she was honestly, deeply upset. This wasn't one of those cases where Max Apogee had 'vanished' for a month or two, only to reappear after making some kind of discovery. The prospect of disappearing from the universe did give Sasha a healthy pause as she dealt with the fear internally. But then with a determined look on her face, she finished typing the command parameters. "Talwyn, even if what you say is true... I've gone too far to back down now. _We have to know_ what we're up against, and what Angela might be flying into. And if the Zoni are responsible, what happened to your father."

"But Sasha--!"

"Hey." She gave Talwyn an encouraging smile. "You would rescue me if I vanished, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, you know I would!" the girl exclaimed. "As... long as I knew where to go..."

"Ratchet would know," Sasha assured her as she initiated the request. "And he hasn't failed in anything he set out to accomplish yet. And with this search, we just might know as much as he does, and how to intercept him."

Talwyn muttered as she shewed her lip nervously. "I hope you're right..."

The Cazar woman flinched as her assistant buzzed her. "Sasha, the Captain left a message a few moments ago. He says he has some news for you. I think it's a GNN video."

"Damn it, I'm jumpy," she muttered as she calmed herself. "All right, give it to me." A window popped open on her screen which had her gasping in shock. "What in _hell?_"

"Sasha?" Talwyn exclaimed anxiously, hoping it wasn't some tragedy. "What is it? What do you see!"

"Hold on..." she replied more calmly, and that made the girl feel better. "I'll feed it to you."

What came up on Talwyn's screen had her cursing under her breath, as it was the video of Darla Gratch speaking with Tachyon in front of the Memorial Hospital. "But... how!"

"That's what I want to know," Sasha murmured. "According to the timestamp, this video was shot last evening, and that's _definitely_ Tachyon. And... that bastard is incriminating Ratchet for a robot attack on Metropolis staged by Nefarious! Darla Gratch is lapping it up all the while... doesn't that woman have any sense these days?!"

Initially furious, it was hard to miss the halo of energy surrounding the little Cragmite. "What the... he's inside a _portal._"

"What in the _world...?_" Sasha leaned forward to get a close look. "Are you absolutely _sure_ that's a portal?"

"Oh, there's no doubt," she replied emphatically. "But... how is he...?"

"This... can't be a coincidence, but... what the hell is _going on?_" Sasha shook her head in bewilderment, then settled down to business once more. "Talwyn, I doubt we have any time to waste. What are you doing over the next week or two?"

"Well... whatever you want!" she replied enthusiastically. "Ratchet may not need my help, but I'm not about to sit around and let him disappear without a fight!"

"Gotta love that Apogee spirit," Sasha told her with a smile. "Now, I'm going to draw up a plan of action, and I'd suggest you do the same, and then tonight or tomorrow let's compare notes. I'll send you all the information I have right now if you like."

"Oh, please do!"

Sasha clicked on the file transfer link on her screen, opened the list in her 'Zoni' folder and began sending everything over. "There you go. Now... while we have a few moments, how do you think we should _reward_ Ratchet?"

* * *

Angela approached the apartment cautiously from the rear, but then gasped in shock, quivering with excitement when she caught sight of Ratchet's ship on the roof landing port. But almost no vehicles were there, and her heart sank. "Damn it... if he spots me, he might make a break for it." She eyed her latest acquisition in the passenger seat, deciding to land on an adjoining building to keep from spooking him. She jumped as she emerged and there was a crash behind her, seeing that a part of the billboard had still been clinging to her aircar's tail. "Well poop, so _that's_ why this stupid thing had been dragging."

Latching the Slingshot gauntlet on her right arm as she tip-toed to the edge of the building, she muttered, "Even with my employee discount, this darn thing cost a pretty bolt. Oh well..." She nervously eyed the yellow orbs strung among the skyscrapers for workers to get around the city, her stomach clenching at the insane altitude. "Uhm... here goes nothing..." Aiming at the first one between her and the apartment building and fighting to keep her eyes open, she fired.

Having no idea how it would go, she gave a startled cry as the snaking line latched onto the orb and yanked her from the safety of the roof to go sailing across the hazy abyss below. Dizzy from the abrupt flight and the gut wrenching view as she swung too and fro, she slowly got used to it, mumbling, "This... isn't so bad..." But then her heart sank as she realized she'd have to let go in order to snag the next orb and get across the gulf. She uttered a string of obscenities as she worked up the nerve, putting her body into the swing to get the most air, and screamed again as she released the link...

She was a quivering mess as she landed on the roof of the apartment building, stammering as she fought to get hold of herself, "H-h-how does Ratchet get used to that?!" Smoothing her dress down as she approached the starfighter, it occurred to her that it had been creeping up in the course of her acrobatics, and her body flushed with hot blood. "Ohhh, no one had better have seen me!"

As she stood beside the craft, rubbing her shoulder and wondering what to do next as she hadn't quite thought that far ahead, she jumped as the ship addressed her in a quaint accent. "Are you Angela Cross?"

"Uhm..." she replied in a quiet voice, "maybe."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Aphelion. Now, be a good girl and run along home."

"Well," Angela blurted out in a huff. "Aren't you brash!"

"Listen," Aphelion told her, "Ratchet is about to embark on a very serious mission, and he doesn't need any distractions. And... I can certainly see that you would be distracting."

She frowned at the ship, unsure of whether she wanted to find that flattering. "Uhm... thank you. But... I _can't_ just let Ratchet go like that!"

"You want him to succeed and return _in one piece_, don't you?" Aphelion hoped that would hit a nerve and make the Secsauri girl think.

"Well, yes... but... can't I come along, _pleeease?_ I won't be any trouble--"

"You can say such a thing dressed like _that?_"

Angela pulled her one piece garment down self consciously, but that only exposed her bosom more. "What's wrong with the way I'm dressed!"

"You look like a tart!"

Angela wasn't _precisely_ sure what that meant, but she had a good idea as she tugged the dress more or less back into place. "Wha... why you...! I'm not going to take this from a ship that doesn't know the first thing about romance! Or fashion!" Even if she was right...

"Who says I don't know the first thing about - _what are you doing?_"

Angela replied haughtily as she peered at the fuselage beside the cockpit, "I'm just... looking for the external canopy release." It wasn't easy with the strange mechanical looking glyphs the Lombax used, but, a ship was a ship. Then she blinked anxiously as the roof elevator began rising with an occupant, and she had a feeling she knew just who.

"Well stop it! You have no business - oh, _fiddlesticks_," she muttered as Angela gave a cry of jubilation, grabbing a handle beneath a spring loaded flap, the canopy opening with a pneumatic hiss. As the feloid scrambled inside and closed the canopy, Aphelion moaned, "I feel so violated..."

"Oh come on!" Angela growled as she fought to get over the seats to the storage hatch behind, giving a bewildered look to a black dome shaped contraption in the way. "This is in the name of love! So _pleeease_ don't tell Ratchet? Girl to girl?"

"This isn't going to work--" Aphelion began, then when the Secsauri began to whine, she muttered, "Fine, _fine_... I won't say a word, girl to... well, _girl_." She grumbled to herself, "Blasted lovesick stowaway..."

"Oh _thank_ you--!" Angela began, then closed the hatch behind her as she heard someone approaching. Yelping tenderly, she searched around for a light inside her bag to see what blunt object she was sitting on. "Ratchet, what in the world is all this junk..." Then her voice fell silent as the cone of light revealed a substantial arsenal of weapons, and she gasped, "_Oh my gosh_..." Snapping her mouth shut as the canopy opened, she planted her hands and feet on the sides of the compartment, working her way over the deadly cargo, hoping to hide herself behind it all somehow. 'Ratchet, what the hell are you going to do, take on the _galaxy?_' But then, she groaned to herself as she felt something immediately more significant. 'Oh crap... I have to use the restroom! Of all the stupid luck... not _now!_'

Ratchet looked over the skyline of Central City, and in the distance, he could just make out the towers of the Megacorp headquarters building, where Angela was probably toiling away. Once again, he fought down the urge to call her as he settled a box of mementos into the cargo compartment, as well as a wish that she would call him... or even be there. And once again, he was gripped with confusion, wondering what to do. "Angela... I saw you first, just a little over a week ago, and that started this whole crazy mess off off. And... even though it all blew up in the worst way, I made a promise to you, a promise I meant with all my heart. Is that what dad did, when he saw mom? Should I just keep it, and trust that I was making the right choice?"

Angela caught every word of this heart melting introspection, whimpering, "Oh, _Ratchet_--" She had the good sense to clasp her hands over her muzzle before another sound slipped out.

He closed the hatch slowly, murmuring, "I could swear I hear your voice... even smell you, and you always had the sweetest fragrance..."

The nano-id had the same experience, floating through the closed storage hatch, then drifting back a few moments later, holding his head in his metal hands. "Oh... my... _gosh_. This is... bad, very... _very bad!_ Angela, how could you!" And then glaring at the console, he growled accusingly, "Or _you_, Aphelion! Are you now choosing sides?!"

"Well, Ratchet," the ships computer asked cheerfully, "are you ready to depart now?"

"Yeah..." He fired up the engines, letting them warm up for a few moments before take-off. "I've wasted enough time... it's been more than a week, and I need to finally get going. Clank, just... hold on, buddy. One more stop to make, then I'm on my way."

Angela put her hand to her chest, over her beating heart, still emotional from Ratchet's moving confession, and excited that she was actually going along after all. "Oh, Ratchet, you wonderful, adoraa_AAAH!_" She cried out as the wall gave way behind her as it was an exterior hatch, and grabbing for something that came with her, she tumbled out amidst the deafening roar of the engines to land roughly on the rooftop. All she could do was use it to shield her head from the hot choking exhaust of the starfighter. As the ship lifted into the sky and she rose shakily to her feet, she saw that it was an old boot, whimpering in dismay from the sight of the rapidly disappearing craft, leaving a contrail as it shot out into space. Then growing angry at Aphelion's betrayal, she exclaimed, shaking the boot at them, "This isn't over yet, buster!"

Then, realizing that she was basically stranded on the apartment rooftop, she looked to the waiting Slingshot orbs strung over the abyss, shaking her head in fear. "No, just... _no_..."

'You need the practice...' her inner adventurer reminded her.

"Oh, just shut up," she told the inner adventurer, rubbing her tender shoulder as she headed for the elevator. "I'll practice on some orbs which are closer to the ground, thank you. And after I put on some decent clothes!" Clutching the boot to her chest as she entered the elevator, she sighed forlornly, "And to think... after all these years, I was finally _this close_ to him..."

Ratchet looked behind him as he heard the increasing roar of the engines, and something that sounded suspiciously like a woman's cry, followed by the thump of a closing hatch and the engines returning to a dull whine. "What was that?"

"Oh... just the rear hatch popping open," Aphelion replied coyly. "I managed to get it closed."

He blinked at the panel in concern. "Well... is the gear okay?"

"Except for... one Tetrafiber boot, everything is secure." She added quietly, "And one pesky stowaway..."

That lingering fragrance suddenly took on a whole new meaning, and he looked behind him with a start. "Angela? _Was that Angela?!_"

"Ratchet, calm down! She's fine. She barged inside me, demanding to come along. I just made sure that... she couldn't, that's all."

He grew angry, growling, "And what right do you have to interfere in my life? You're getting to be as bad as Clank--!" He cut himself short, his cheeks burning with shame as he murmured timidly, "I'm... sorry, that was a really stupid thing to say..." The little nano-id blinked at his friend in shock, speechless at his outburst.

The ship responded brightly, "No, I'm going to take that as a compliment. After all, you do speak very _highly_ of your friend... do you not?"

Ratchet nodded, stroking the console fondly. "Yeah, he's... the best, really, the best friend I ever had. I'm... really sorry..." He noted with a thin smile that Aphelion had been developing quite the personality as she spent time with him, at least as protective and caring of him as Clank was. "It's just that... things have been kind of tense..."

"Well then, no reason to dwell on that, is there? Let's just drop it, and pretend it never happened, shall we?"

He nodded, speaking in a near whisper, as he hurt over his cutting remark. "Please... do forgive me, and let's move on. I really need your friendship. But still, Aphelion... Angela... she means a _lot_ to me. What you did... I know you meant well, but..." Looking over his shoulder at the planet receding into the starfield, he sighed at what must be going through the girl's mind, afraid she might be blaming him. "I have to go back--"

"Don't," Aphelion cut in quickly. "Ratchet, think logically about this. What happens if you turn back and see her?"

"Well... I explain things, and... she..." His voice drifted to silence as he realized what the ship was trying to tell him. The hurt feelings, the tears, the clinging as he tried to leave, assuming he could work up the nerve to turn away from her, and... undoubtedly, the grabbing, the clutching, the kiss that would probably turn his body limp, the sensation of her warm curves against him, the lingering in her embrace, and... it became a mess of steamy romantic notions after that. Gripping the controls tightly, he groaned, "Why... why does life have to be so _hard_..."

"I can't help that," Aphelion said gently. "But you have to wake up and realize where your priorities should be. This love triangle... no, good lord, this _quadrilateral_, it can wait 'til afterwards, when you can concentrate your whole being on this wild affair you've created. Look at you now. You eat poorly, you sleep _very_ little, you... well, have these strange conversations with yourself... Ratchet, what you're heading into is going to require you to be in the best, most focused condition of your life! _Especially_ since you're bound and determined to go this alone." As he sat there quietly, she asked him in a gentle tone, "So, do you understand now?"

After a time, Ratchet replied quietly, "I was just thinking that... other than Clank, I couldn't ask for a better friend."

It was hard not to notice the smile in her voice. "So, will you _listen_ to me from now on, _friend?_"

He smiled with her as he nodded. "Yeah, I'm gonna need a lot of advice from you, I know that."

"Good. Well, before this turns into another long, drawn out heart to heart like before, to the extent you start missing jump points, I'd suggest you start by plotting a destination. One with a _good, nutritious restaurant_."

His growling stomach didn't need to be reminded twice how hungry he was, but he needed something to get his mind off of Angela and the others much more, and back on track to rescuing Clank. "Later," he murmured, wary of how the ship would react. "First, I have to pay a visit to Cobalia."

"Cobalia?" Aphelion asked in perplexion. "Why on earth are you going to that underpopulated world? I happen to know that the food there runs from mediocre to abysmal. And isn't it in Tachyon's imperial control, _still?_" It was a rhetorical question.

"Yeah," he replied, "but I have to see a dealer about some warranty repair."

"Warranty repair?"

He nodded. "It's time to get serious." Advancing the throttle to full cruise, he remarked to himself as he gripped the controls, "Especially if Tachyon is burning my bridges behind me."

Aphelion wondered what he could have purchased from Cobalia that warranted such an out of the way trip, and who would deal with him without trying to throw him in a Cragmite dungeon, as well as whether her pilot was all there...

* * *

Talwyn said goodbye to Sasha with a smile, a genuine smile, as in the short time she had to get to know the Cazar woman, she had grown to like her very much. "It's so strange," she murmured to herself. "I'm becoming friends with my chief rival... and I have a feeling I'll feel the same way about Angela. It's not fair that they're so nice..."

"Hey, honestly, Angela's a doll. You'll see."

The girl jumped as the computer interrupted her thoughts. "Uhm... Mitzy! I forgot you were there... you've been so quiet..."

"Oh, I'm just shy." Talwyn frowned to herself as she thought the saucy artie was anything _but_. "Hey listen, I took the liberty of sponging that data off you two, if that's okay."

"Uh... sure! And I'd _really_ appreciate working some stuff out with you."

"You bet, sweetheart. Just give me a buzz at Angela's number and mention my name. I'll pick right up. Now, I really got to get back to this workload, and, uh... see if I can chase down Angela, just in case she decides to do something drastic. Not like she hasn't done _that_ before..."

"Oh! Hey... let me know, okay? I mean, in case..." Her stomach clenched at the thought of a geeky klutz stepping into dangers way over her head.

"Listen, I'll put the fear of eternal Hell into her. She won't dare make a move without checking in with you two to make sure I'm on the level. Angela may be a little crazy, but she's not... well, _that_ crazy."

"Oh, good. And Mitzy... thanks, for everything."

"What're you thanking me for?" It seemed like the computer was blushing. "Talwyn... you're a great kid. Just keep your chin up and your eyes open. We'll do fine, you'll see. Now... I really gotta run. Take care, honey."

"You too... bye." As the screen went dark, she felt alone and exposed in the quiet solitude of the station, dangerously so, and she glanced over her shoulders anxiously. Could they be here, right now, just waiting for some reason to pull something? Gritting her teeth when a wall popped, she called a bit too loudly, "Guys? You can _get in here now!_"

As the conversations ended, a dour looking blue reptile saved the transmission, his ship parked in the vicinity of a deep space communications transponder. "Well now... it's a good thing I decided to listen in on the little ladies. I doubt those two would feel comfortable welcomin' someone o'my..." He puffed his black vested chest out with a deep breath. "Mmm... distinguished reputation."

"A man without equal," squawked his feathery red companion. "No regard for greatness."

"A true word, my friend." He shook his head in mock disappointment. "But I likewise doubt they'd be inclined to part with such choice information as I have just acquired... without a scrap anyhow. A'course, neither one o'them fine women seems to know where Ratchit's headed. However... there is _one_ more that might just have somethin' useful to add to this... int'resting development..."

Entering the coordinates to his destination, he gunned the engines, rotating his craft around and headed for the proper jump point.

* * *

Author's notes.

**Artie:** an artificial intelligence. Some rather elite robots and computers consider this shortening to be rude.

**IGNet:** the InterGalactic Network, a consortium of communications companies providing a network spanning the seven galactic clusters. Using tachyon quantum modulation technology, communication is virtually instantaneous and lag free. And for the _most part_, secure.

And now, for lack of anything else to type about, a note on the system used for personal identification in the Alliance System. I'm sure you've been dying to know this.

Doctor Nefarious' ID Code, rather like our Social Security Number, is

**SOZDRN D5RG68 991010 521666**

**SO**: Solana Galaxy

**Z**: Star system Zelxin

**D**: Planet Daxx

**R**: Robot

**N**: First character of Family or Last name, or sole name.

**D5RG68:** Location coding for Nefarious' registered home, including star system, rather like a galactic zip code and used as such.

**9910**: Codes that deal with social classification. The first two deal with legal issues, 99 being someone convicted of capital crimes of the highest order, the 1 indicating Nefarious has no local issues of any consequence, is a reasonably good taxpayer and property owner. The 0 indicates no special status or handicaps. This is why Nefarious interrupted the Special Unit Commander before he could rattle off the second string of numbers, as he considers the 99 designation to be completely unfair. His lawyers are engaged in having this classification reduced, and expected to be successful in approximately 180 years, although this was prior to the recent Metropolis incident...

**10 521666**: Simply, the number of robot citizens which have had a last name beginning with N from Daxx since instituting the Universal Registration Code, 10,521,666. Beastly...

Of course this means that based on what kind of citizen you are, your URC could chance slightly over the course of your life. Try remembering something like that for a job application...

I know I've had a complaint about the last chapter, but it would have taken me perhaps a month to compress that down, as there were a lot of emotional issues, as there are in this one. Character development is something I value, and sometimes, peeking into these people's souls gets a bit lengthy. Chapter 13 involved a number of issues between the four characters which will be percolating through the rest of the story. In fact, these last few chapters are laying some significant plot bricks which will manifest later on. Perhaps someday I can rework 13 to something more bite sized, but it won't shrink all that much.

And lastly, I'm sorry about the lack of demarcation between sections over the past several chapters. I've tried a couple of things, but either OpenOffice isn't playing nice with , or has issues. Sadly, there seems to be nothing I can do about that. Meh.

By the way, Sasha was bluffing. Her re-commissioning as a Captain is pending.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: Unexpected guests**

Tachyon browsed through the moments of Ratchet's life with increasing distaste as it played out around him like some kind of surreal living dream. "What is it with you, Lombax, that you feel the need to right every wrong in the universe? This gallant knight syndrome you've succumbed to is just pathetic. And these..." he coughed in disgust, "_so-called villains!_ Letting a grandiose house cat with a few clever gadgets and a glorified info-bot defeat you is simply appalling! At least _I_ was done in by a treacherous artifact!"

He grew increasingly sour as he explored event after event. "Every _one_ of these losers failed to do more than make that blasted furball burn a few calories and get in even better shape with each moronic scheme they threw at him! _I_, however, am wearing him down, slowly but surely, and he has not a _clue_ as to how I am going to harness his noble sense of duty to accomplish_ my _goals for me! What a worthless bunch of self-inflated egos with over-estimated IQs!" But then something caught his attention, and he dwelt in a period which at first glance seemed like all the others. "However... I see some _real_ potential with this one! And it will give me a chance to test out the theory of the Recursion Paradox! This should prove to be quite a lot of fun... if the universe survives it!"

* * *

Sasha was fulfilling the cliche of the candle burning at both ends, busy doing several things at once in her office. Browsing information on the computer, typing notes, pondering the many disparate threads of this mystery, and wondering what Ratchet was doing at the moment. She chuckled to herself, "Maybe I should sick Qwark on him... somehow, he manages to cross paths with that Lombax when no one else has a clue where he--"

She looked up as her assistant buzzed her. "I'm sorry, Sasha, and I wouldn't normally bother you with this, but you have a collect call--"

The Cazar gasped in dismay, "_A collect call?!_"

"--From Captain Qwark," she finished.

She frowned at the screen irritably. "Well, speak of the devil... but since when has he been too _cheap_ to..." But then it occurred to her that he never _had_, and sighed in resignation, "All right, I'll accept the charges. Put 'im on." She muttered under her breath, "There had better be a darn good reason for this, big guy."

At first she wasn't quite sure what she was seeing when the screen popped open, then realized he was using a wrist unit, but... why was he carrying a load of boxes? Talking even faster than usual, he said in a guarded tone, "Mayor Sasha! Oh thank God you accepted! Listen, you _have_ to get me out of the clutches of this arch fiend before she bleeds me dry! I would have called on my bolt, but unfortunately my lines of credit are being blocked because this shop-happy hellion is running me all over this arm of the Polaris Galaxy!"

Sasha waved at him to be quiet, blinking in confusion. "Qwark, slow down, now... what are you doing _there--?_"

He cringed as a gravelly woman's voice came over the speaker from somewhere off screen. "Less talk, more walk, pack mule... who're you talking to anyway?"

"Pleeease?" he whined at the screen. "And can you float me some credit? I can pay you back just as _soon_ as I get back to Metropolis, promise!"

"_What?!_" she exclaimed in outrage. "Qwark, what in _hell_ are you involved in!"

Cringing from the volume of her outcry, he hissed guardedly, "Not so loud! All I can say is, it involves a ruined diner, about three dozen banquet sized meals, and the shopping spree from Hades! Please Sasha? Pleeease please please _please!_"

She began to protest, but it seemed he was about to cry. She muttered tiredly, "Will... ten thousand get you buy?" When he was about to explode in gratitude, she waved him silent, asking for his location. "Yes, just... go to the spaceport and it should be there before you arrive."

"Oh, _thank you_ Sasha! You're a princess among frogs!"

She shook her head, giving him a droll smile as she opened a window to her bank's homepage. "You... have a way with words, Qwark, a veritable bard..."

"Here you go, you... leach of a female." He dropped the packages on the unseen woman who gave a cantankerous yelp. "Sorry, but the galaxy is in dire need of help! Along with my credit line..."

The woman cried after him as he fled, "Come back here, moneybags! I'm not done milking you yet! We still haven't gone to Courtney's Secrets!"

Sasha cringed as she sounded much too old to be visiting Courtney's Secrets, ending the call whether Qwark was finished with her or not. Rubbing her forehead with a smirk, she muttered, "How is it that every time I get entangled in Ratchet's world, mine ends up _much_ more complicated?"

She blinked as hers suddenly became even more so. Several beeps sounded from her computer, becoming a buzzing crescendo which ended abruptly. Opening up her proprietary search window, she gaped at it in shock as it had been terminated. Dozens of threads were closed with red denial notices. Opening one, she gasped in shock as she read it.

**Warning!** Unauthorized access to classified files has been terminated due to improper security clearance. ALL FILES LISTED IN RED MUST BE DELETED PROMPTLY. Failure to do so will result in an embedded virus erasing your computer. You have **04:98:68** hours to comply. THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING!

The decimal clock was counting down rapidly. It had completely bypassed her security software! Gaping in astonishment, she looked for the sources, and while some of them were from government computers, others were from universities, news agencies, libraries... civilian sources! She opened up the directory the files had been saved to, and was greeted with a long list of filenames lit in red, infected by the security virus, and as she watched, it began spreading to other files in the folder. "Oh my God..." she gasped. "What in hell is going on!" And then she cringed as she recalled that she'd been sharing these files with Talwyn and killed the transfer. Sending her a quick message, she warned her, "Talwyn, something's wrong. The files I've been sending you might be tagged with a security virus, and it's deadly. I wouldn't recommend you do anything about it until I contact you. I'm going to call on an old friend." Ending the message, she made another call, saying anxiously, "I know it's been a while, but I _really_ need you to be there..."

* * *

The chubby cyborg examined his cheek in the bathroom mirror, marred with a bluish-purplish bruise. "Wow... I didn't know getting involved in interviews could be so dangerous!" He struck a manly pose, eying his reflection. "I wonder if it makes me look more macho." He blinked as his computer trilled from an incoming message and tried to exit, first, running into the door, and then as he recovered, getting his lab coat caught on the end of a towel rack. "Oh, good grief... my luck these days - _hold on!_" Finally he made it to his computer, cutting off the message recorder and declaring, "Big Al here! If I can't fix it, it ain't - Sasha! Hey! It's been--" He stopped as he realized he'd been talking over her, and she looked upset over something.

"--Just listen, please. I have a computer that needs some _special care_, if you get my drift."

"Well sure! Just..." he began brightly, not quite catching what she was driving at for a few seconds, but it finally hit him."_Ohhhh_... uhh, yeah. Uhm... can you bring it here? I'm better equipped to deal with... stuff like that in my shop."

"I should be able to." She added meaningfully, "I have a few hours."

He nodded as he began to think of what he would need to tackle this, as he had given Sasha his basic but very effective suite of protection software. Whatever this was, it was serious, but he relished a challenge. "That should be plenty. If not... we'll sure find out."

"Great, see you in a few. Sasha out," she finished in her habitual Navy goodbye. She shut the computer down, pulled the unit out of the desk, unplugging it and laying it in a briefcase along with the monitor and keyboard. "Have my car ready," she buzzed to her assistant, then rested her hands uncertainly on the case, her mind swimming in a tumult. "What in hell have I stepped into _now?_"

* * *

Al gaped at the screen in amazement. "Sasha, how did this happen?"

She shook her head in reply. "I'm still trying to figure it out. It started with wanting to find some answers to help Ratchet. Are you... aware of what he's getting ready to do?"

"Rescue Clank from the Zoni?" Then to make sure he hadn't said anything she didn't already know, he looked up quickly, then back to his work as it hadn't surprised her.

"Yes. I initiated a deep scan of virtually the entire IGNet for anything dealing with the Zoni in reference to those old myths. I thought my old security level was still valid, but I guess the Navy doesn't care for politicians... even ex-Navy politicians. Anyway, I must have inadvertently accessed something in the government I shouldn't have, because the next thing I knew, all the files were getting infected by this stupid thing, not just..." And then it struck her. "_Not just the government files_..."

Al looked up with a gaze that went from curious to awestruck. "You mean... _all_ the files that had to do with the Zoni? But, Sasha... why!"

She threw up her hands in dismay. "I don't know... you're the technical guy, Al. Maybe you can think of a unique angle. Why would the government want to suppress a certain level of data mining on something that's a scarcely known fable?"

The portly technician scratched under his hat. "Uhm... you got me. I can't imagine why a fairy tale creature would be a state secret. Maybe something in the files will tell us."

"Can I poke around in my computer as a second user while you work?"

"Sure, no problem. Now... let's see what Mister Ninja has to say about this thing..."

She had to enjoy a little smile to break the tension at Al's flamboyant personality, for a geek. Grabbing a second monitor and keyboard from a stack, she logged in with them using one of her aliases and began sorting through the files in the Zoni folder. It was the first time she'd really looked at the file names and descriptions, and it caused a heavy mood to settle over her. The ones from some of the government sources were labeled with some rather ominous sounding names, such as Absolute Zero, Magic Foe, Unseen Master, and Overlord. But one towards the middle of the list grabbed her attention: Remote Gray, and it was repeated in a number of filenames. While it sounded innocuous at first blush, her familiarity with the military mindset gave it a much more serious tone. She tried to access one of them, and a loud buzz rang in the speakers along with a small warning window, advising her to put in her password, with a clock madly counting down the seconds. Quickly she exited out before anything could go wrong, but this was driving her mad with curiosity and worry. "They're either afraid of them, or protecting them... but which is it?"

Al had been watching this as one of his programs was spinning away beneath the surface shell of the computer's operating system. "Or both? But who would know?" And then as he said it, an answer came to mind with a snap of his fingers. "Your--"

"Father," Sasha finished with him as she drew a tablet out of her briefcase, but as she made a call on a private line to his office, a message came up. "Oh, I can't believe this... golf _again?_"

"Well... it's a relaxing sport," Al offered up. "And the news has been buzzing over tensions between Polaris and the other galaxies in the cluster lately. I bet your father really needed a break."

"Millennium Day is just seven weeks away, and everything seems to be going wrong at once... that's just perfect." She shook her head irritably. "And I was looking forward to the celebration, too..."

He looked to her in sympathy, wanting to brighten her mood. "Didn't you re-enlist in the Navy?"

She chuckled at his wording, but nodded. "Something like that."

"Well... can you make it back in time?"

She looked out the doorway to the blue skies over Metropolis, a city she once governed. "Maybe... it depends on how soon I find Ratchet, and help him rescue Clank from the Zoni." She added to herself, 'Whether he wants my help or not.'

The cyborg was about to fret over her mission when a beep from the computer drew his attention away, and his eye opened wide, saying in an awestruck voice, "Sasha... it looks like the government isn't responsible for this... at least not _ours_..."

"What do you--?" She looked to a line of code on a screen his anti-virus program had unearthed, reading at a point he had his finger on. "...Authorized and by the order of the... _Intercluster Alliance Security Bureau?_"

The tech looked to her, wide eyed and speechless, mouthing silently, "_The Alliance_..."

"Al," she said, rising from her stool, "I'm leaving my tablet here in case Talwyn calls. I shared these files with her, and she's probably going to have the same problems. Do what you can to help her, and to rescue those files, but if it comes down to it, delete them. And thanks, I really appreciate this." She patted his shoulder as she went for the door. "Now, if golf is such a relaxing game, my father won't mind taking a break to answer a few questions from his beloved daughter."

* * *

The Solana President winced as he watched Admiral Hot-throttle's ball travel in a perfect arc to clear the pond and roll onto the green. "Ya know, I was hopin' that playin' against a robot was gonna _improve_ my game, not prove how bad it is." Two others chuckled politely as the President planted his tee and addressed the ball in the shade of the late afternoon.

"Control more than force, Mister President," the Admiral reminded him with more of a Scotch accent. "Which reminds me, Senator Benchbuster, has the Council come to any consensus over the Polaris situation?"

"We're still in talks with the Bogon Council," replied the Senator, "seeing as they're as threatened by Polaris as we are. But while we have requests for assistance from the independent groups in Polaris, Emperor Tachyon has made it abundantly clear that any Fleet activity directed at Polaris would be considered _provocative_, as well as any relief efforts. Even for his own citizens."

The President leaned against the shading tree, unable to focus. "So, the situation in Polaris goes to hell in a hand basket, with people outta work and goin' hungry, just so everyone else is worse off than the Empire. So we can't use force, and things go even more outta control. I tell ya, I'm beginnin' to wish I'd lost that last election."

"Now, Mister President," said the Admiral, "yer doin' a fine job, all things considered. You have a great diplomatic team doin' all they can. All we can do right now is wait for a break. Go'n give that ball a whack, and blow off some steam, sir."

The Admiral's nephew, Captain Steam-valve, noticed someone approaching in a pubescent voice much like a teenager's. "Isn't that your daughter, Mister President?"

He flinched as he drew back, his club sailing into the branches above, causing a jay to fly off, cawing angrily. "Looks like you scored a birdie," the Admiral remarked dryly as the other two tried to keep from dying with laughter.

As he poked at his lodged club with another, the President observed warily, "Ya know... she don't look like she's in the mood for golf..."

Sasha grumbled to herself as she stomped towards the group, lugging a set of clubs almost as big as she was. "I can't believe this... I have to join the association for a year, buy a set of clubs and balls, these stupid shoes, and on top of that, this idiotic--" She pushed it back as it threatened to engulf her head once more. "--_Hat_ is the only one that fits my ears! Three _thousand_ bolts! All this, _just_ to meet with my father! What a ridiculously expensive day. I swear, I'm beginning to think that Ratchet is a jinx!"

The President began pensively as she stormed up, "Uhhh... sweetheart, we already have a foursome--"

"You!" she pointed to him, then aimed at the Admiral. "And you! We have to talk!"

He blinked at her, looking to the President. "Err... about what, Sasha? Ohh... don't tell me yer reinstatement hit a snag!"

"No, I have some even bigger problems. It seems I did a little surfing on the net, and all of a sudden, because of a few questions, I _now_ have a computer full of security viruses! Just what the hell is Absolute Zero!"

"Uhh..." the President began, his eyes opening wider, "it's... darn cold?"

Sasha gave an angry cough. "Oh, you're quite the comedian today, father! Well, what about Magic Foe! Remote Gray! Just what _are_--" She blinked at the two as they shared alarmed glances, then pounced on her before she could escape. The President emptied her clubs as the Admiral held her, squirming and cursing, and then with a squeal, she found herself unceremoniously dumped head first in the golf bag, the pair running off with her while their golfing partners gaped at the sight in astonishment. Finally, the Captain said quietly, "I guess you can play through, Senator..."

Making their way with their infuriated catch to a shady brush a good distance off the course, the Admiral said conspiratorially over her muffled screams of outrage, "I say we make a break for the clubhouse."

The President shook his head warningly as he struggled to control his kicking daughter. "Naw, this girl can run, and when she catches you... well, you'd better be _really_ well insured. I think we should just get this over with."

Upending the leatherette bag and dumping Sasha on her feet, the moment she emerged, she began furiously thrashing her bewildered father with her hat. "_Ivan Sonovavich Phyronix!_ Don't you _EVER do anything like that again!_"

The Admiral couldn't restrain a laugh at the middle name. While the President scowled back, the Fleet Commander flinched away in panic as Sasha growled in his face, "And _you_, Admiral... _I'll hot-throttle you!_"

He rubbed the back of his head nervously as he backed away, muttering, "She does seem a fair bit upset." He gasped in shock as she ripped the hat apart in his face, whispering, "Sonova _vitch_..."

"Hey, come on Alex," the President complained. "That's so old--"

He put his arm up defensively as Sasha waved a ragged hat piece at him in a tightly clenched fist, her disheveled hair making her look even more threatening. "Start talking! _Now!_"

Ivan's brow furrowed in perplexion as he began uncertainly, "About _what, _dumplin'?"

He ducked unsuccessfully as she threw the two fragments at his head with all her might. "_Oooh!_ Don't treat me like a little girl! _Answer me!_"

He managed to get two large hands around her arms gently but firmly as he gazed into her eyes, the weariness and worry of recent times causing her to lose much of her temper. "Sasha, honey... tell me what's goin' on, so I can know what to say to ya. This is serious business, so for God's sake, don't go spoutin' this stuff out loud in public. Some of it's so classified, even I don't know it."

She gaped in shock to the two men, looking between them. "You mean... _you don't...?_" The Admiral's jaws clanged tightly shut in evidence that he didn't care for being shut out of certain issues himself. Growing increasingly nervous as she felt like she was stepping into a shadow world of conspiracies, she said more quietly, "The Zoni... they abducted Clank. Father, _please_, tell me what you know."

The two officials looked to each other in shock, though it also seemed the Admiral sighed with relief. Ivan Phyronix murmured, "Well... it was gettin' to be about that time, but it's really strange that they'd want Clank. Maybe they think he really _is_ a secret agent."

At first Sasha scowled at the remark, but she reminded herself that when dealing with aliens, nothing was outside the bounds of possibility. Even Nefarious thought that about Clank, and he had the holovids. "But father... _why_ is this such a damned secret!"

He shook his head. "I don't know what to tell ya, sweetheart. Maybe to stop panic. It all seems to me to be mostly a nuisance. Every hundred years, more or less, the Zoni pop up and make off with some famous robot. And in the meantime, on those rare occasions someone manages to get lucky enough to catch site o' one, they're doin' pretty nice things. I looked into it for a while after I was elected, since this is one o' the matters I was briefed about, but no one seems to know anything about 'em, or why they do the things they do. Even the heavily classified stuff I can get hold of was just a bunch of educated guesses. This is somethin' beyond the jurisdiction of the Cluster governments anyway."

Sasha's brows knit in concern, as she hadn't expected anything like this. "But... father, aren't you a member of the Intercluster Alliance Council? Don't you have any clout there at _all?_"

His shoulders slumped a bit as he admitted, "Honey... not really. I'm mostly a liason, just bringin' up matters o' concern to our galaxy. I have to admit that the body we belong to isn't even the actual Alliance Council. Hell, we don't even know where the real Council _is_."

The Admiral looked down in consternation as Sasha appeared ready to explode. "What the _f_... _hell!_ I can't believe this!" She faced away, her fists planted angrily on her hips as she glared at the afternoon sky, tinting green from the impending sunset. "This is ridiculous. So a sitting duly elected President of an entire _galaxy_ is treated like an errand boy! When there's war or threat of one, they couldn't be bothered to lift a finger! When alien robots abduct our citizens, we can't even know a scrap of information to protect ourselves! There's not even an agency we can send complaints to! Oh, but they can sure levy taxes and boss us around! High and mighty bastards!" She turned to her father, exclaiming in frustration, "What the hell good _are they!_"

Sasha was disheartened as her usually statuesque father bore a look of defeat. "Sweetheart, I just... don't know what to say. They tell us all these glorious hints about how the Alliance has great plans for the future, then we never hear much more about it. It didn't used to be that way. When the clusters were full o' mistrust, xenophobia 'n war, they were the ones who brought the galactic community together and made sure that the rights of all beings were respected, robots too." He and the Admiral shared a wry nod. "The Charter we all adhere to is their creation, and gave us about a thousand years of relative peace. But... somewhere along the way, somethin' changed, and... well, for whatever reason, now they hide behind some kinda brick wall without so much as a mail slot. But what can ya do?"

"Lass," the Admiral added quietly as Sasha gasped in dismay, "at some point, ya wake up to the realization that what ya learned in school isn't entirely the truth, about yer government, military or whatever. Then you either have enough sense to know that it's just the way it is, go cry in yer cereal, or ya become some kinda radical. Those are about yer only choices."

Sasha looked down for a moment as she wrestled with this discouraging revelation, but when she looked back up, her expression was one of defiance. "All right, so the once mighty Alliance has become a bunch of spineless, domineering bureaucrats. That's the situation... fine. But it doesn't change a thing about what I have to do. Father, please tell me what you can."

He looked to her, blinking in astonishment as it finally dawned on him. "Wha... you mean, you're gonna go after those--?!" He swung his gaze to the Admiral who looked aside, muttering, "I, uh... meant to bring that up, Ivan..."

As the President began to object, Sasha implored, "Father, listen to me! We owe both Ratchet and Clank a great debt for what they did for the people of _three galaxies_. They're heroes in every sense of the word, risking their lives when they had no cause to, and saving us all from a lot of death and destruction. And now, Clank is in the clutches of the Zoni, so naturally Ratchet is going after him. I am not about to let him face this threat alone." When he looked like he was still opposed to the idea, she added pleadingly, "Father, they saved _my life_, and the remaining lives of my crew, and probably your furry hide as well. We can't just stand by when they need help the most."

He stood there silently for a time, gazing into her eyes as unknown fears dogged his thoughts. At last, he murmured, "It's just... the hardest thing in the world to let my little baby girl throw herself into this kinda danger, ya know?"

"I'm _not_ your baby girl anymore," she insisted sternly, although her demeanor softened as she quietly added, "but you'll always be my daddy."

And then, they fell into each other's arms as the Admiral discreetly admired the pair with a thin smile. Patting her back softly as he cradled her to him, Ivan murmured, "Sasha, honey... I know you're right. Just... give a daddy a few moments to hold his li'l girl, since I don't know when I'll see you again..."

She giggled, remembering many a time he'd held her when she was the one who was upset, resting her head against his strong barrel chest. "Ohh... all right, you big softie."

He leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "Hey, damned straight. But you have that effect on a father."

After a time, the Admiral cleared his throat to get their attention. "Far be it from me to interrupt such a touching moment between father'n daughter, but I have a feeling the lass would like to get on with her mission."

"Yeah, I know..." Ivan sighed as they slipped from each other's embrace, though he held her hands. He looked into her eyes sternly as he warned her, "Sasha... like I mentioned, don't go sayin'... _those words_ out loud in public. Ya never know when an Alliance officer might be listenin' in."

'You mean a spy, don't you?' she said to herself, but nodded silently.

"And I don't really have a lot to tell ya, darlin'. You prob'ly know as much as we do if ya read any o' that stuff ya downloaded. I will tell ya that Remote Gray is our speculation on what some kinda master controller might be, or mastermind. We think it's some kinda huge quantum computer or somethin' like it, if it does exist."

She frowned at that, murmuring, "A... _huge_ quantum computer? Do we have anything like that?"

He shrugged. "Not that I'm aware of, sweetie, not like what we suspect anyway."

"And gray... as in _Guardian?_"

He nodded somberly. "You read that too, huh? Well, don't go sayin' that out loud either. I have a feelin' that sayin' anything about the Zoni aloud might draw some unwanted attention, since the conditions are ripe for another abduction. And no one seems to know that Clank was already nabbed by those little critters. Just so ya know."

She asked him pensively, "Father, are Alliance agents that prevalent in the clusters?" She wanted to use the term _spies_ in the worst way.

"Well..." he drawled, looking aside for a moment, something which worried Sasha even more. "Yeah, they _are_, but... I was thinkin' more o' the Zoni. Ya see... somethin' no one knows about is... there are indications that robots aren't the only ones to disappear. People who get too curious about them... sometimes vanish too..."

A shiver ran up her spine as she murmured, "Max Apogee..."

He looked sad as he asked her, "So... it's true about his disappearance, then?"

"I don't know, as far as Zoni involvement," she replied with a slight headshake. "But... father, we can't let this go on. I can't believe entire civilizations let this madness take place for thousands of years!"

"Hey, they looked into it, believe me, but... with no trace of those little monsters, it's darn near impossible to know what to do." As Sasha looked down in discouragement, he added, "However... I can tell ya, there's one source of information that's even better than what we have."

She looked up brightly, saying with him, "IRIS... of course! Thank you, daddy!"

She gave him another hug as he sighed in resignation, "I don't s'pose you could just have Kerwan hire some mercenaries to look into this, sweetheart?"

She chuckled as she gave him a parting squeeze. "Let's not start that again. Just... wish me luck, especially with finding Ratchet. He's almost as elusive as the Zoni."

He smoothed her hair back into place lovingly as he whispered, "God's speed, darlin'... and, for heaven's sake, don't take any crazy chances."

She blinked as that sounded all too like a request she'd made herself to Ratchet, but now she understood why he was so reluctant to agree. Still, she nodded, murmuring, "I won't, daddy. I'll be back soon, I promise." When he looked satisfied, she turned to the Admiral, though he apparently was a step ahead of her.

"Now lass, remember that you're merely a _Captain_, so don't go galavantin' around as ya please. You still have to follow regs'n procedures."

"I know..." she responded a bit slyly. "That's why I want authorization to take the Phoenix out on an unspecified survey mission."

The Admiral sighed, putting his hand to his metallic head in dismay. "I had a feelin' you'd say that..."

She frowned in confusion. "What's the problem?"

"Well..." he began hesitantly, "that little tactic worked _twice_, and after that, the Fleet put the kabosh on any sort of unspecified _anything_."

"But weren't you the last one to...?" Then her voice faltered as she understood.

"Aye, lass, I'm the reason for that little change in regs. Even I don't have the authority to override it, _especially_ me. Yer father would have to step in, and that would cause a huge mess for you. But... I'll see what I can manage."

At first discouraged, picking up the torn hat pieces, she gave him a warm smile at the end. "Thank you, Admiral. Now I'm counting on you, along with other robots a century from now. And here." She handed the torn fragments to the two men, telling them with a smirk, "Just a friendly _reminder_, in case you try and pull another stunt like that." She had to laugh as they both muttered awkward apologies. "Well, if you can forgive me for nearly doing bodily harm to my superiors, I suppose I can call it even."

"Fair enough, Captain," the Admiral chuckled. Then he asked her, "Do ya really think you can manage what a number of civilizations haven't, lass?"

"I don't know," she admitted, "but Ratchet can... he can do something. It's just amazing what that guy can accomplish. Now..." Her eyes settled into her father's as he gazed at her fondly. "I really should go. I have a ton of work to do to prepare for this, and just a few days to do it in." She threw herself into her father's arms one last time, hugging him tightly. "Goodbye daddy... save those clubs, and when I come back, we can play a few rounds. And don't worry."

He sighed as he squeezed her to him warmly, "You're askin' a little too much there, sweetheart, but... I'll try. Just be careful."

"I will, daddy," she said as she drew away, bringing his hands to her lips for a kiss. "Love you."

As she trotted off towards the clubhouse with a wave, the Admiral assured his friend, "She'll have a mighty ship, and a fine crew. I promise you that."

"I know, Alex. I can always count on you." Then growing curious, and needing a distraction anyway, the President asked, "Ya know, you never did tell me what that little _expedition_ o' yours was all about."

"Oh, the, uhh... _unspecified_ thing?" When the President nodded, he told him, "Well, I suppose there's been enough water under the bridge now. Ya see... I encountered a clan'o robot ninjas in one'o my missions as a Captain, and... well, the leader was a rather alluring woman..."

Ivan was stunned. "Seriously? _That_ was Tsubaki?!" The Admiral nodded, and he continued in amazement, "No wonder that woman was so good with a knife."

Alex said with a saucy grin, "She could slice'n dice like nobody's business. Among other things..." When he noticed the President regarding him in wonder, he coughed self-consciously. "Well... I suppose we'd better be gettin' back, if we're gonna finish that game. But what d'you suggest we tell 'em?"

Reflecting for a moment as they set off, the President slinging his daughter's empty golf bag, he looked up brightly. "Fleas."

The Admiral nodded soberly. "Fleas work."

Ivan scratched behind his ear. "It says so much without having to say much at all."

"Word up," the Commander agreed, scraping at his side.

* * *

"What in tarnation is that infernal beeping!" Zephyr grumbled, homing in on the source. "It's drivin' me crazy, and it has to mean somethin'... ah!" He spotted the computer Talwyn had been using, slowing down as he saw that the screen had a large warning notice displayed, gasping when he saw that it had a large timer counting down, putting his hands to his face in alarm when he saw how little time remained. "Ohmygosh! MISS TAAALWYYYYN!"

"What the heck're you caterwaulin' abou--?" Cronk began as he rounded the corner, interrupted as his mate slammed headlong into him. Zephyr didn't miss a beat, planting a foot on Cronk's head and using his momentum to launch himself over the fallen robot. "Sorry, no time!" he shouted to his friend as he scampered down the corridor to Talwyn's chambers, yelling and waving frantically.

Cronk hauled himself to his feet, grouching as he had to reattach his arm yet again. "What the heck has that yahoo so riled up that he has to use me for a springboar...?" His voice faltered as he saw the red warning on the screen, approaching it cautiously as if it were a bomb, and in a sense it was. In eighty-seven minutes, the computer was going to be completely erased, and it might not be the only one. If the virus had spread throughout the station's systems, everything would die! "Ohhh, cruuud..."

"Don't mess with it, Cronk," Talwyn ordered him as she rounded the corner, smoothing her hair into place. "I swear, just try and get some rest and--" She stopped short as she read the warning, grabbing the chair and practically jumping into it. "Ohmygosh... Sasha, I have to warn her!" But she saw that she had a message from the Cazar already, nibbling her lip as she played it back. "This was four hours ago... and she hasn't called me back yet? Ohhh... I'd better run a diagnostic on the Station's systems..." The moment she ran the program, everyone jumped as red lights began flashing and alarms blared. She buried her face in her hands as she groaned, "Oh my God... I just infected the Station." Drawing a deep breath and trying to settle herself, she killed the audio alarm so she could think. "Cronk, Zephyr... ready the secondary auxiliary systems, and _make sure_ they're isolated before you activate anything."

"Right Miss Talwyn," they replied in unison, then headed to their tasks. Cronk told his friend, "Thank heaven for that... I completely forgot about the secondaries."

"I know," Zephyr responded. "They're older than we are! And that makes them..."

"Ancient," they said together as they departed.

"Maybe they're _so_ old, the virus won't be able to infect them anyway," Talwyn muttered to herself as she drew out a laptop from inside the desk. "Now... I have to call Sasha and see what the hell's going on!" As the link was established, the window popped open revealing the confusing sight of a ramshackle place full of what looked like old junk. "Wait... this can't be right..."

There was a crash from somewhere off screen and someone calling, "Hold on a sec, and I'll be right..." It sounded like a squeaky voiced geek, and when they appeared, she saw just how right she was, as the face of a portly cyborg filled the screen. "Oh, hi! I'm Al, pleased to meet--"

"I'm sorry," she frowned in consternation as she reached for the End key. "I must have misdialed."

"Are you Talwyn?" That stopped her, and she nodded, blushing with a self-conscious smile as he muttered, "Gosh, you're pretty." When he saw that she'd caught his remark, he coughed in embarrassment, going on more loudly, "I-I-I mean, uh... you dialed correctly. Sasha left her tablet here, and I set it up to redirect you to my number. I take it you were infected with the security virus?"

She cringed as she recalled just _how_ infected, her voice sounding pained. "Yes, and I ended up letting it invade just about every system in Apogee Station! _Please_ tell me you're the one helping Sasha!"

"I am, now just calm down. There should be just enough time... wow, you say it infected _everything?_" When she nodded, he blinked in amazement. "Golly, that thing is getting cranky! But that's okay, I can handle it. Give me access to your computer, and I'll send you over my special anti-virus virus."

As she acknowledged his request, she started as what he'd told her finally registered. "Wait, what... anti-virus... _virus?!_"

"Well... yeah, see, I managed to get hold of one of the most insidious viruses ever, Shadowfaq, and I managed to reverse engineer it into about the most effective anti-virus program there is. And what better way to fight a virus than with a friendly virus? I call him Mister Ninja, and he hasn't let me down yet. Now, let me check your specs here... oh yeah, you're loaded! This will be perfect. Now, how much software engineering have you learned?"

"Uhm..." She cringed again as that wasn't one of her best subjects. "_Some_..."

"Okay, it's no big deal," he assured her, and it was calming to have a tech handy which had successfully dealt with this problem. "He has a simple voice command structure. When he starts running, just tell him to disinfect... whatever, and he'll take care of the rest."

As she was about to reply, a window popped open showing a placid Oriental garden with soothing koto, flute and string music playing. A hooded figure appeared in a puff of smoke, dressed in black, which bowed politely. "I am Mister Ninja." A gong sounded, and in large bold letters, the character's elegant logo appeared beside him. "How may I serve you?"

"Disinfect... _everything!_" Talwyn exclaimed to him. "Hurry! There's only seventy-seven minutes!"

"_Ksou!_" he blurted out, evidently some kind of foul word. "Err... I beg your forgiveness. Is this the same virus which has been vexing the young woman?" When she nodded, his eyes narrowed. "Then, open all channels, and let Mister Ninja rid you of this overconfident foe!" And with that, he dove off the screen.

"Open all channels?" she asked with a frown, then it came to her, and she linked the computer with every system in Apogee Station. Looking to her infected computer, she clasped her hands together nervously, murmuring, "Please... _please_ work..." And though she didn't really expect to see any immediate results, her eyes widened in surprise as the counter froze once or twice, then began steadily slowing down. "I don't believe this... it's amazing!"

"Well, of course!" Al told her, making his window pop to the front. "Mister Ninja's secret is that he eats other viruses. And since this is the same virus that infected Sasha's computer, one of the worst I've ever seen, he's now the most powerful anti-virus program in history. You should be free of it in maybe half an hour, if that."

She leaned back into her chair, placing her hand over her heart. "Oh... _thank you_, Al. You just saved the Station. I owe you something fierce... just name it."

He blushed, fumbling with his short tie as he muttered, "Oh, uh, well, uhm... maybe... lunch some time?"

She giggled at how cute he was in his state of befuddlement. "You're in Metropolis? Well listen... instead, why not go with me to the Millennium Day celebration?"

His eye popped open nearly as wide as his mouth. "Ohh... seriously?! Oh, that would be great!"

"Cool! Then it's a date. And if you need any help shopping for clothes, just let me know and I'll come down a few days early." Then she thought to herself pensively, 'Assuming I manage to help Ratchet get Clank back by then...' She looked to a wall calendar which had a big lavender block on the first day of the new year, 1000. Just over seven weeks away.

Unbeknown to the pair, Al's program was a little more helpful than he anticipated, and infected the remote relay station the Smuggler had been eavesdropping from. It found a whole host of viruses residing within. Many were archaic and no longer a threat to anything but long outdated game software and vintage home appliances. Some were dormant, some were stranded by computer traffic from years ago, but all were food for Mister Ninja. But then he found one that was lodged deeply in the operating system of the satellite itself, and he methodically began to devour it.

On a monitor located a vast distance away, a warning no one ever expected to see popped up on a screen...

* * *

Author's notes:

**'Til the next millennium:** this is an old phrase which means "a long time (away)," or "forever." And even though the next millennium is only a few weeks off, people still use the phrase out of habit.

**Time:** as you've noticed, the clock seems to run into the hundreds. That's because it's based on a 0-99 decimal system, not our clunky 0-59. There are 20 hours in a day, 100 minutes per hour, 100 seconds per minute - which of course local planet time will be different because each diurnal (day, night) rotation is unique for each planet. The Space Clock which defines Universal Time is based roughly on a 25 hour Earth equivalent. This time scale is what's used by spacefarers such as Space Merchants and Fleets of various Navies.

Yes, it's almost Ratchet's New Year's Day, and the dawning of a new millennium. Currently it's the year 999, and the calendar is one thousand years old because it began with a Year Zero. Millennium Day is going to be quite the shindig, as hundreds of cultures take a few _days_ off to party hardy.

As you probably have noticed, my author's notes are getting skimpy, but I think you guys are getting used to the ropes by now. I'm a big fan of Doctor Who, and how you're thrown into the middle of a story without having hardly a clue what's going on. Let's see how this goes.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: The tedium before the storm**

Sasha had been worn to a frazzle from the late night travel across the galaxy to see her father, and while it was probably due to nervous tension, she dreamed about Ratchet during brief naps... unpleasant ones. He was always in trouble, always shooting his way out of it, from Blarg and Tyhrranoids and robots and many other foes besides. Above it all, manipulating the whole thing with little threads like puppet strings were the Zoni, as well as Tachyon, both of them fighting for control of something. And what was truly exasperating, she was always late, always behind, always chasing after Ratchet but never by his side where she wanted so desperately to be. Either that, or she had to help Al, Talwyn, Angela or some other friend, or was ensnarled literally in red tape. Between the brevity of her naps and her frustrating dreams, she got very little rest, and despite the mountain of details and packing she had to tend to in resigning her term as mayor, she couldn't fight the need to sleep, her body feeling leaden. She sat at her desk and leaned forward, laying her head in her folded arms, whispering, "Just... half an hour of peace... fifty minutes, please..."

Ratchet was screaming... it was the size of a planet, and it had him. _And it was pulling his arm off--!_

For a moment, it felt like she was falling forever as her mind reeled from the terrible shock. She had to scream - she _tried_ to scream so very hard, but it caught in her throat as her rubbery body refused to obey her will. But then as she lurched awake, nearly falling out of her chair, she realized what it was. Resting her elbows on the desk, she put quivering hands to her face as she panted, "Ohh... my God, how terrible... _please_ don't let _anything_ like that happen to him, please..." She was ever so thankful for the reassuring glow of the mid-morning sun pouring through the office windows. Clasping her hands as if in prayer, she gazed out onto the cheerful cityscape, thinking how wrong it was that she was safe while the one she cared for was out there, somewhere, seeking living nightmares alone. "Ratchet..." she whispered, "why... _why?_"

She choked back another cry as her intercom buzzed, and she did her best to fight down the shaking as her assistant informed her, "Pardon the interruption, Miss Mayor, but there are two gentlemen here to see you."

That was another thing to be thankful for; the archaic, screenless intercom system, as she didn't want anyone seeing the emotional state she was in. She also didn't want visitors right now, no matter who they were, and Miranda would have properly announced them if it was important. "Listen... inform them this isn't a good--"

"Time..." she finished irritably as the ornate wooden doors swung open, accompanied with a shouted protest from her assistant, and two holovid extras from a Secret Agent Clank movie came swaggering in. At least that was the impression she got of the pair, as they had all the trademark items: the plain black clothing and hats, plain white shirts, plain black ties and sunglasses worn while indoors, and to cap it off, pasty gray faces, no doubt with pasty gray personalities to match. They looked very much like short Blarg. She muttered under her breath, "I can't believe they're for real..." but as they came to her desk, she forced herself to give them a courteous greeting, if the the bare minimum. "Well... _do come in_, gentlemen," she remarked sarcastically, giving the slightest bow. "I am Mayor Phyronyx--"

"We know who you are," one interrupted in a brusk manner as they whipped out I.D. cards choreographically from plain black wallets held in plain pockets under their plain black jackets which, annoyingly, began playing some kind of theme song with all the flavor of espionage and gunplay. However, the flashy cards had her attention: metallic holograms with the words _Intercluster Alliance Security Bureau_ emblazoned across the top. Cryptically, the only thing she could make out of their identities in that brief glimpse were _Agent L_ and _Agent P_.

"Sorry," the other snapped as they pocketed the one bit of dazzle in their wardrobe, though one card was reluctant to stop playing, requiring a couple of slaps to the chest to stop it. "Too classified to remain viewable for more than three seconds."

"Classified," Agent L snapped the instant his companion fell silent.

"Like those files you were researching."

"Without authorization."

"Illegally."

When the ping pong exchange halted, Sasha grit her teeth to hold back what she really wanted to say. "Well... I was unaware that old _fairy tales_ were such a deep dark state secret. Why is that--?"

"That's classified," Agent P remarked flatly.

She threw her hands in the air with a sigh. "Naturally--"

"So why did you initiate that search?" quipped Agent L.

"Using Naval protocols?"

"Without authorization?"

"Illegally?"

"Speak into this microphone," Agent L ordered before she could even begin a response, setting a floating device in mid-air before her.

"Clearly."

"Remember, everything you say will be classified."

"So forget it when you're done speaking."

Sasha had quite enough of being treated like a criminal by these two walking cliches, rising with feigned courtesy as she said in a dainty voice, "Speak _clearly_, you say?" Before they could even nod, she grabbed the microphone and yelled right into it, "_None of your flocking business!!_"

In a nearby surveillance van, a seated technician flew over backward in shock as his headphones ricocheted off the ceiling.

Agent L flinched back as the Cazar threw the sparking microphone into his chest, and his voice began finally to show a little emotion, as did his fellow. "That was uncalled for."

"Inappropriate." But looking to each other, they began to steele themselves once more.

"Since you're being uncooperative..."

"We're going to have to confiscate your computer."

"Immediately."

"We need answers."

"So hand it over."

"It's for the good of the Cluster."

"And the children."

"And the environment."

"Good call on that one," Agent L said to his cohort.

Agent P shrugged. "Politicians get all spinny when you bring up the environment."

"True, dat."

"So cooperate," Agent P ordered, turning his attention back to Sasha.

"It's your patriotic duty."

"Like recycling."

"Be a team player," they said in unison, looking to each other with a nod.

That remark hit Sasha's last nerve, and they began backpedaling as her eyes seemed to flash a murderous red. They didn't get more than two steps away before she grabbed their black ties, yanking them back to her. "You people have a lot of gall using _that phrase_ on me, after all the _crap_ you made the clusters suffer through! 'Team player' my _asp!_" Gripping the ties in one hand as she reached into a desk drawer with the other, she fished out an item that was still an office accessory to this day, if rarely used: a pair of scissors. The agents gasped in shock, their eyes popping open above the out-of-fashion sunglasses as she made her way around her desk, brandishing the shears as she snipped them in the air threateningly.

"You... can't do that!" protested Agent P fearfully.

"These ties are regulation issue!"

"Official uniform!"

"Regulation!"

"Official!"

"You can't buy these in any store!"

"No, of course not," Sasha growled. "You have to special order them for twenty bolts along with ten box tops from Secret Agent Clank cereal!"

"Really?" Agent L blinked, looking to his companion who shrugged back.

"Now listen to me," she snarled. "You two clowns--"

"Agents," they insisted in unison.

"Whatever!" she exclaimed. "Tell your superiors how much we citizens of your _glorious Alliance_ appreciate being treated like chattel! And _next_ time they want to harass a democratically elected official, to send someone a few steps above some rejects from a cheap spy flick! _Got it?!_"

"Oh, now that was harsh," Agent P complained.

"_What was that again?!_" Sasha yelled more than a little savagely as she drew back her scissors equipped arm.

Mixed in with a stream of incoherent compliance were the words, "Mmm-m-muh-miss, w-we really nu-need that computer--"

She cried out in frustration, driving the shears towards those quivering ties.

The Cazar angrily slammed the scissors down on her blotter afterwards, throwing herself in her plush chair, still boiling at the outrage foisted on her by the two agents. But as she reflected on the sight of them fleeing as if in fear for their lives, she began to giggle, then to laugh. "I never saw anyone move so fast in my life. At least they got me out of the mood of that bad dream, and maybe... just maybe, they'll take us more seriously." She picked the shears up, snipping them with a grin. "I do wish I had a couple souvenir hunks of _official_ Alliance issue spy ties, though. Who knows, they might have some secret nanotech gizmos woven inside." She stretched luxuriously as she fended off a hint of fatigue, groaning, "Well, I do have a ton to do still... what now?"

And then it hit her that she might not be the only ones on those rent-a-spy agent's to-do list...

* * *

As his automatic lawn trimmer swept in neat rows over the yard in front of the Robo Shack, Al was enjoying a bit of sun, though as usual, this simply meant he did outdoors what he usually did inside. "Watch the daisies," he reminded it, and the mower responded with a series of whistles and juicy spitting tones. He turned his attention back to his tablet, muttering, "Now where was I... oh yes! Ratchet just left Endako a while ago... without filing a flight plan, darn him. Now... where might be his next destination? He was just at Megacorp HQ... maybe Gadgetron on Kalebo III?" He called up a galactic map as a shadow fell across him, and he grumbled, "I thought today was supposed to be sunny." Then he noticed the shadow had shoes associated with it, looking up to see two men dressed as... either accountants or lawyers, or something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Then it occurred to him who they must be and blurted out, "Hey, relatives! So what's the occasion?"

The two Alliance agents looked to each other questioningly, the one to the left saying in a terse, clipped manner, "Are you the cyborg technologist known as..." He made quote marks with his fingers. "_Big Al?_"

"That would be me," he grinned up at them, though it became a frown as he eyed them more closely. "Gee... you guys look a little gray. Are you getting enough vitamin E and sunlight?"

The other one scowled back from behind drastically unfashionable sunglasses. "We're good. And we know who you are."

He blinked back at them in wonder. "So why did you ask?"

"We're here on official business," the first one remarked dryly.

The cyborg's eye opened in realization. "Oh, you're in a hurry? Say, I can whip up a quick protein smoothie if you like."

"Are you listening to a word we say?" the other snapped.

"Is that a trick question?" Al blinked up at them, growing even more confused.

"Listen, _Big Al_," the first man told him sternly as they whipped out wallets in a unison motion, and from them, flashy metallic holographic identity cards which began blaring spy music. As he backed away in a fluster, the two agents tromped in lock step towards him, brandishing the cards like weapons as they pelted him with staccato sentences. "I'm Agent L."

"And _what the heck is that?!_" the other shouted as the lawnmower began bumping against his shoes, revving its motor threateningly.

"Impertinent lawn-bot," the first one grumbled as they tried to push and kick the stubborn unit away.

"We're not so easy to mow down!"

"Moe? Hey." Al flicked his hand at it in a shooing motion. "Go... take care of the plot next door, or something." The little robot didn't look too sure about leaving his master at the mercy of the two ruffians, but giving them a warning glare, he trundled off to the adjoining lawn.

"_Moe_, huh?" remarked the second man, their cards still playing the spy soundtrack.

"Very clever."

"You're a _clever_ young man."

"Thank you," the cyborg murmured in a small voice, fumbling nervously with his hands.

"As I was _saying_," the second man continued as the pair whipped their I.D. cards up, advancing threateningly, "I'm Agent P!"

"And as you know, I'm Agent L."

"From the Intercluster Alliance Security Bureau."

Al gasped appropriately as they repocketed their cards.

"You assisted a seductive young woman in acquiring classified documents, did you not?"

"Apparently defeating one of the ultimate security viruses in the universe."

"If this is true.

"Rather high level work for someone of _your_ modest background."

"Just how did you gain the expertise in defeating high level security code?"

"If this is true."

"And just _what_ is your relationship with this alluring young woman?"

"What exactly do you have to offer her?"

"Services rendered for _services rendered?_"

"If you catch our drift?"

Poor Al was reduced to a babbling, flabbergasted mess from this emotional onslaught, as he had trouble facing up against authority figures, especially secret agents from the mythical Alliance, and as angry as he was at their obvious allegations, he couldn't find the courage to object. Fortunately, it was just then that Sasha arrived across the courtyard, growling at the sight of the pair bullying her friend and crying, "_Hey!_" Drawing the scissors from her handbag as she got their attention, she held them high, exclaiming, "Don't make me run with these!"

The two agents nearly jumped out of their patent leather shoes. "That woman again!"

"She's out of control!"

"Running with scissors?"

"Inconceivable!"

They jumped again, waving their hands frantically as Al began saying in the comically perfect dead pan example of bad acting, "Oh help. Sasha. Please save me."

That was all the cue she needed to bolt across the courtyard at terrifying speed, her eyes fixed on the two agents like a panther closing on it's prey. They didn't scamper off nearly as fast, but it did seem to be a faster clip than their escape from the Mayor's office. She cried after them as she stopped beside the cyborg, shaking the scissors in her fist, "And don't come back unless you want those ties trimmed!" When it was clear they had no intention of even looking back, she put the shears away, grumbling, "Jerks." Then when their eyes met, Al and Sasha began giggling, and it was too contagious. Wiping her eyes after enjoying a good laugh, she chuckled, "Oh, I can't _believe_ those two. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Al replied a bit sheepishly. "Uhm... thanks for saving me like that. They were getting rather personal! But... won't this cause some trouble?"

"Frankly, Al, I'm in the mood to cause some trouble," she practically spat. "They treat us like we're nothing!"

He shrugged, surprised at her reaction as he twiddled his fingers. "Well... they _are_ the Alliance, after all."

"Oh, come on, Al, they're _not_ better than we are!" she declared. "They're not all they're chalked up to be either, and I'm finding out just how much." She noticed that he was rather perplexed by all this and decided to ease up on her irate citizen tirade. "But... you're right. Next time, they might send someone with a bit more authority. I'd suggest you prepare a disposable computer in case they come wanting to confiscate yours, and if you kept those files, make sure they're offloaded. Whatever it is that I accidentally dug up is making them nervous."

His eye widened at that, and he said in an awestruck voice, "Wow... this is getting exciting... just like a Secret Agent Clank holovid!"

She couldn't resist a chuckle at that. "Well, if you can think of anything from those movies that's actually useful to protect yourself, use it. I have a feeling you won't need much to fend off the errand boys on the lower rungs of the Alliance spy corps, if those two are any indication." The cyborg blinked up at her when he noticed she was gazing at him in a bittersweet mood. "And, listen... I'm going to be leaving soon, and I won't be back for some time. I wanted to thank you, for all you've done. You've been a big help, and a good friend."

"Oh, yeah... the Navy--" he began, but was cut short as he was caught completely by surprise by a kiss to his forehead.

She felt a bit embarrassed by her token of affection herself, but shrugged it off, clasping his hand. "You, uh... take care of yourself, Al. And don't let those Alliance goons push you around." After giving him a brief smile, she turned and dashed off for her aircar, as she hated goodbyes, though she did give him one last bit of advice. "Hey, hook up with Qwark, he's supposed to be coming back soon." She added under her breath, "_And_ paying back a loan..."

He gazed after her hollowly as she dashed off, stopping himself from asking to accompany her. Instead, he called with a wave, "Be sure to write!" As she waved back with her reply, he stood there watching as she got into her aircar and flew off, until it was out of sight. Tottering back to his repair shop, he muttered, "Maybe those two will come back and make things interesting..."

Sasha looked at the clock as she made her way back to City Hall, wincing at how little time had passed. "I swear, it almost seems like Time itself is slowing down on me. I have to get out of office and to the Navy Shipyards, or I'll go crazy. I'll help with the repairs myself... _anything_ to get things going!" As she merged with the main airlane leading to the city government complex, her mind wandered back to the Lombax she cherished, fretting over her dreams. "I wonder what he's doing right now?"

Aphelion cringed as the music of Mike and The Quantum Mechanics blaring from her speakers came to a crescendo. Ratchet got caught up in the spirit of the video, mimicking M.Q. Rutherford's wailing licks with some air guitar of his own. The computer groaned in the background, "Oh, Ratchet, _honestly_..."

This caused a chuckle in nano-Clank who caught it clearly. "He has his own... _unique_ ways of relieving tension."

* * *

Talwyn was noodling with a stylus on her desktop, the image of it appearing on the computer screen. She was trying to figure out a strategy for their next moves, but she wasn't having much luck. "I need more to go on," she muttered. "I'm not much of a strategist..."

She pursed her lips, scribbling along the line under the word _Zoni_, and read what she'd written for the twentieth time.

_- Invisible, unsensible, unstoppable_

_- Networked, crazy numbers, nowhere and everywhere_

_- Helpful? Why? Because we serve some purpose to them?_

_- Bastards!_

Shaking her head in perplexion, she read the name below it, _Clank_.

_- Sire? Ruling WHAT? Zoni? More? Where?_

_- In danger? Imprisoned? By what kind of power? Zoni, or worse?_

_- In control of his own mind? Why no word yet?_

_- Guardian? Of WHAT?_

_- Alone?_

That word made her want to cry. The memory of his disappearance was all too vivid and clear, and especially of how devastated Ratchet was. The life practically left his body that night, and when she held him, he was just limp. Except for those times he cried...

Wiping her moistening eyes with a sniffle, she looked to the word _Sasha_.

_- Best ideas for what to do_

_- Stuck waiting for her ship... three days? Less?_

_- Has firepower!_

_- More ways of finding Ratchet? Less?_

_- What if the Navy calls?_

_- Sex kitten, adores Ratchet, damn her... I like her too_

She chuckled, erasing it, then writing _sex kitten_ again, then erasing it with a grimace. "Ohh... I can't be mad at her. She's been such a big help so far... she even wants me around! She's just amazing..." Scribbling _sex kitten_ once more, she muttered, "A little too amazing..."

Erasing it one last time, she turned her attention to the word _Angela_.

_- No word from her, should contact her_

_- With Ratchet? Probably not... but in danger?_

_- Mitzy... spy? Who's side? Duh... trust her or not?_

_- First love_

She winced, scribbling that last bit out, then erasing it, then after considering a few moments, writing it back in, grumbling, "Sasha's right... I have to face the facts, not ignore them. I don't want anything to happen to Angela, but... it would sure be convenient if she gave up and went back home..."

She shook her head at her own wishful thinking, scribbling below Ratchet's name,

_- Going in circles, like a kid with the keys for the first time_

_- Must be as clueless as we are, but these moves don't make any sense_

_- Where next? Where after that? Why this crazy pattern? To throw us off?_

_- Does he know anything yet?_

_- How do we catch him?_

_- _(heart shape)

She couldn't resist drawing some more little hearts in patterns across the screen, making a halo with them, and in the middle of it, a reasonably decent sketch of her lying on top of Ratchet as she mauled him. With a lusty gleam in her eye, she began erasing her clothes, wondering idly what that would feel like... to have Ratchet wrapped around her, his fur brushing her skin... his tongue...

Shaking her head vigorously as she realized she was getting _very_ carried away with herself, she began to erase it, then gasping just before a pixel was wiped out, she dragged the image into her super top deadly secret Diary folder instead, grumbling, "No one had better _ever_ see that, or or I swear, I'll throw 'em right into the Grav Reactor."

"I hope that doesn't include me," said a robotic voice as it approached.

Growling with a fury they had yet to hear from the young woman, she turned to them and cried, "_Zephyyyrrrr!!_"

Cronk wisely slowed down when he saw that look of death in Talwyn's eyes, while Zephyr put his hands up defensively. "N-n-n-nah-now-now, Miss Talwyn, take it easy, there."

"We just wanted to see how you were gettin' along," Cronk added as he made sure to keep his friend's metallic body in between. "Err... so, how are ya comin' along?"

"Oh, not too well--" she began, then flinched at the sight of all the hearts she'd drawn. She tried to erase them, but she poked at the wrong tool, and only succeeded at sending them floating across the screen like blown leaves. Cronk came forward as she stifled curses trying to collect them, remarking, "Very pretty."

Angry and embarrassed, she grabbed the startled guardians to her and snarled, "If you two _ever_ peek at what I'm doing, I'll swap your heads around!" Quivering, they looked to each other for a moment, then frantically shook their heads at the young woman, their skulls rattling and neck supports grinding. She let them go, sighing, "Okay, stop it, or I think both your heads will come off."

While Cronk leaned against the wall as he caught his emotional breath, Zephyr crept forward, sneaking a peek at the screen when Talwyn stopped cleaning it up. "Err... may I--?"

"I'm sorry... yeah, you can look," Talwyn interrupted. "But there's not much to see." And peering at the scribbled notes, it was disheartening to see how upset and lost the young Apogee felt. Cronk clomped over, the pair looking to each other and uttering many unfinished words as they tried to think of something to offer as far as an idea, or even encouragement.

"Oh, stop it you two," Talwyn grumbled in frustration. "You just remind me how clueless I am." She slumped forward, burying her face in her folded arms. "I wish daddy was here..."

Zephyr gazed at four entries within the halo of notions the girl had noodled out:

_- IRIS_

_- Find daddy_

_- Go to Sasha_

_- Find Angela_

He pointed at the group, asking, "What about those?"

Talwyn practically lunged to her feet, her eyes looking outward as if deciding what to tend to before leaving the station. But then, slowly, she sat back down. "I want to go... to do _something_ so badly! But... well, IRIS is surrounded by Space Pirates. I have no clue where to even _begin_ to go looking for daddy - and I swear, when I do see him, _I'm going to give him something to think about for putting me through this!_" Calming herself down, she continued, "Sasha, well... it wouldn't make a lot of difference whether I wait here or there. It won't make her ship ready any sooner. And Angela... uhm..." She hugged herself, murmuring, "I kinda... don't want to meet her just yet..."

Cronk frowned, beginning to mutter, "Why noh--?" Zephyr cut him short with an elbow to his side, pointing to the line under the Secsauri's name, _First love_, to which he nodded somberly.

"Besides," Talwyn blurted out, "I think it would be a good idea to wait around a few days anyway, just on the off chance that daddy might call, or Clank miraculously show up out of the blue." Tapping the stylus next to Sasha's name, she added, "But the day before she sets sail, we'll be there. And _then_ if we don't start making some headway, I'm gonna _explode_."

She looked to the Universal calendar again. 'Forty-two days until the new millennium, our first thousand years as an Alliance. I always wondered if something big would happen about now, but I had no idea...'

* * *

Angela was wearing a halter top and shorts, but she was anything but relaxed, going to her closet and drawing forth an old outfit she hadn't worn for years. But she was staring right through it as her mind was elsewhere, wondering what Ratchet was doing, and if he'd jumped headfirst into danger yet. With some irritation, she also wondered if that ship of his was responsible for dumping him alone, or if he'd gone along with it. "You damned well better not have," she growled as she placed the garment against her body, wondering dubiously as it looked smaller than she remembered it. Trying to slip into it, she groaned at how difficult it was, and chafing at how it rubbed her fur the wrong way. "Oh, come on! I haven't gained any weight..." She caught her reflection in the bedroom mirror, eying her tush, mumbling, "Or... much... not _that_ much!"

There was the sound of a throat clearing behind her, and she pulled the garment off irritably. "If you have something to say, Mitzy, I'm looking for positive reinforcement here." Stripping down to her underwear, she sighed as she tugged the outfit on, managing to get it on completely, wincing as she slid her arms in the sleeves and her fur was pushed backwards. "Ohh... crap, my poor guard hairs! I'm going to have to wear this thing for a while to get it back into shape, and it feels terrible!" Making a face as she walked around and trying unsuccessfully to ignore the abusing her pretty fur was taking, she questioned her faithful computer to take her mind off of it. "Mitzy, what's Ratchet doing right now?"

"Listening to some pretty rowdy music, way too loud if you ask me, and doing... _something_ with his hands..."

Her eyes sprang wide open in shock, but then it occurred to her what it must be and blurted out, "Oh! Air guitar... Angela, get your mind out of the gutter..." Growling as she tried to shimmy her fur into a more comfortable state, she was also burning with curiosity. "Where is he headed?"

"Cobalia, of all places," the computer muttered.

"_Cobalia?_" Angela exclaimed. "Why the heck is he going there! It's within the bounds of the Cragmite Empire, and they can't be too happy about him killing their leader."

"He said something about getting some warranty repair on some gizmo, but I dunno what."

Angela frowned in perplexion. "Unless he's getting a Gellinator fixed, I can't imagine what would drag him there. It's just a bunch of gooey swamps!"

The computer audibly shrugged. "I've given up on trying to understand that guy. But I get the feeling that _he_ has the feeling he's being monitored."

"Well... as long as he doesn't find out who." She sighed, wishing she had the nerve to talk to him, but that would just get the signal killed at the end of it. "What about the other two... what are they doing?"

This made the Secsauri girl feel better, momentarily. "Oh, there's a hold up, that's one good thing. Sasha's getting back into the Navy, but her ship isn't ready to fly yet. She and Talwyn are talking over strategy now and then. They're, uhm... worried about you."

This stopped Angela blinking in her tracks. "Why are they worried about me?" She looked at her reflection in the mirror, wondering if any sex appeal showed through. "I'd think they'd be happy to see me disappear."

Mitzy's voice took on a kind of motherly tone. "Hey, really, those are good kids. I think you'd like them."

That made her feel guilty at some of the thoughts she'd been entertaining about them. "Well, that figures... and that's just going to make Ratchet like them even more..."

"Oh, listen hon, you don't know. After Aphelion dumped you out her... rear hatch, Ratchet was all set to turn back."

"Oh..." she said quietly as a flush of warmth ran through her body. Sitting on her bed and picking up a framed picture of herself and Ratchet taken at a fairgrounds, she stroked lovingly around the image of his smiling face. "So... do you think I stand a chance with him, then?"

"Well... the little hairball can't make up his mind. But from the way he's talking to himself, I'd say you have at least an even chance." As she watched Angela mooning over the small image clutched to her bosom, she thought it was wise to offer some _parental _advice. "Say, Angela... maybe, it might not hurt to keep your options open. Just in case. And, ya know, that I.T. guy who's been coming around hasn't had _that many_ reasons to check the computer systems... he's been checking out _something else_, if you catch my drift..."

Visions of Ratchet so filled her mind that she had trouble thinking of who that might be. "That I.T. guy? Uhm... oh, you mean... Luke... Lucan? Oh, I can't even remember his name. That... _wolf?_" Although, as his image finally came to mind, he did seem rather dashing and suave. But... no, he was no Ratchet.

"Hey, listen. They call Don Juan characters _wolves_ for a reason, and he is more your _size_..."

"Oh, now, there's more to a guy than how big he is. There's what's inside too, you know..." Just then, it hit her what her computer might be referring to, her eyes opening wide as she picked up a sock and threw it at the screen. "Mitzy, you had _better not_ be referring to what... I think you're referring to!" Although she had to conceal a smile at the thought with some giddy, girlish delight.

"All right now, girl," Mitzy said chastizingly, the sock draped across her screen. "You chill on that or I'll..."

"What?" Angela asked defiantly.

After a moment's pause, the computer admitted, "Okay, ya got me there. Anyway, you'd better get a wiggle on. I think Sasha's ship will be ready in a few days, and then it's _on_, sweetheart."

"Yeah, you're right," the woman murmured, placing the framed image back on her bedside chest and heading for the other room, growling as her fur chafed under the tight fabric. "Come on, stretch... fit. Fit! Or I'll throw a fit!"

"Hey, hold on, Angela!" Mitzy called after her. "Get this sock--! Oh, felgercarb..." There was the rude noise of air being forced through pursed lips, and then the computer realized, "Damn it, I don't have any breath..."

Enjoying a momentary grin at her friend's predicament, it didn't last as she sat at another terminal, groaning at what she was about to do. "These stupid escapades are _expensive_, and I just recovered from the last one. But... it can't be helped... not if I'm going to stand a snowball's chance of being with Ratchet any time soon." Opening her Megacorp portfolio, she groaned at the market graph that popped up. "Oh, wouldn't you know... the Protopet news has the stocks surging higher! But I need _something_ right now. Maybe... just... _five hundred shares?_" She typed it in the Sell box, cringing and covering her eyes as she finished the transaction. Peeking between her fingers at the retirement calendar, she gasped as it bumped up two years, and she realized that by the time she was done, it would be more like five to ten.

"This had _better_ be worth it, and you had _better_ pick me..." she whimpered, "or Ratchet, I am _so_ going to wring your neck..."

* * *

The black-hatted reptile took another look at his watch. It was already way past sunset, and the apartment in the building across the street he was eying seemed to be as empty as it was the past few hours. Lifting his eyepatch and using his binocular scanner to peer through the walls, he swept it over the dwelling just to be sure, spitting in disgust. "Well now... that was a grand waste o' time."

His robotic parrot fluttered around his head, squawking, "Cat flew the coop!"

"She has to _be_ there to fly it in the first place, my fine feathered stooge," he grumbled, but then his lips curled into a smile as he swept his scanner over the units below, noticing the image of a shapely female entering a shower. "Then again... maybe I can salvage a little somethin' from this disappointin' evenin'."

He began to chuckle mischievously over his good fortune, but stopped short when he caught the noise of grit under a bootstep, flicking his scanner towards the night sky. Lowering them when he felt the tapping of a baton on his shoulder, he feigned innocence as a well built robot cop asked in a voice like silk over steel, "You like _cloud gazing_, by any chance?"

The Smuggler blinked up at the cloud bank he'd been aiming for, blurting out as he smoothed the patch into place, "No! No, actually... birds. Ya see, I'm somethin' of an ophthalmologist." The mini-parrot bolstered this obvious truthfulness with a big toothy smile.

"Yeah, I _do_ see," the policeman remarked dryly. "Might I suggest then that you find your way to one of our lovely and well lit _parks_, or perhaps one of our highly regarded _aviaries_." Poking him firmly in the sternum, he added, "And leave this vicinity on a more or less _permanent_ basis. Unless, of course, you'd like a tour of our renown bio-scanning and guest boarding facilities."

The bluish reptile backed away, murmuring, "Uhh... that's quite all right, my good man. I'll take that under advisement. There don't seem to be many birds out tonight anyhow." As he turned to walk away, the parrot couldn't resist adding, "Cats either."

The Smuggler snatched him out of the air, snarling lowly, "Not a good time to open your big beak, bird brain!"

The cop made a suspicious _hmm_ as he began remote-scanning through the police files of suspected reptilians, frowning when a highly dubious match came up from an Alliance reference. Scanning along the trajectory the Smuggler had been eying, suite 4400 came up. "Hmm... Doctor Angela Cross... chief geneticist with Megacorp?" Watching the Smuggler round the corner of the building, he began marching after him, muttering, "Maybe I'll invite this guy in for a cup of coffee and an interrogation after all." Sensing a rapid heartbeat around the corner, he drew his stunner, but was caught off guard as the reptile sprang on him. He shoved something hard against the exposed metal of his body, when suddenly a tremendous charge of electricity sizzled through every circuit--

"Woah!" the Smuggler spat out as he kicked the cop away, sparks still flying from the point where his Robo-Zapper made contact. Holding the weapon at the ready, he saw it wasn't needed as one of the robot's eyes were out, the other spinning wildly as he sprawled out cold on the sidewalk. Pocketing it, he muttered, "Sorry, officer, but I'm gonna have to take a raincheck on that offer o' yours... a nice, _permanent_ one. Besides..." He drew out a pocket computer, checking the coordinates of several potential destinations as he loped towards a taxi. "I'm on kind of a tight schedule."

* * *

**Author's notes**

Not much to say today as I'm on kind of a tight schedule myself, ya see.

I decided to post this as the chapter was growing a bit large, and the following section deals with another subject and setting entirely. And hopefully, the next chapter will come much sooner.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: Pleasantries and conspiracies**

_Theologian, bounty hunter, soldier, musician, philosopher, doctor, artist, politician..._

Clank enjoyed a chuckle at the childish rhyme the robot's titles made, as he didn't have much to laugh about in this bizarre, oppressive, subversive existence. These were most of the robots the Guardian Archetype abducted over the past one thousand three hundred years, the Archives he selected for his cabal. It quickly became apparent that a pattern had been established which the Guardian had followed for every civilization, nabbing highly regarded robots from a few choice fields, and why.

He used these abducted robots to learn all there was to know about the many civilizations in the universe. Absorbing a multitude of personal experiences and memories, it was the equivalent of living thousands of lives himself, and this intimate knowledge made it much easier to maipulate these cultures like countless puppets, bending them to his will. And conveniently, each robot had been rescued from some life threatening peril, giving the Guardian the illusion of a kindly benefactor, though clearly they were orchestrated events. World by world, culture by culture, he had basically devoured their identities, and when his plan was complete, he would have devoured their wills as well, including every robot, every computer, infected by him like a virus. It was utterly brilliant... cold, calculating, fiendishly clever.

'But,' Clank declared to himself adamantly, 'doomed to failure. It will _not_ come to pass, I swear it. Even if I am destroyed in the course of my plan, I will make sure that it is carried out by my fellows. And these eight - well, seven compatriots of mine should be well suited to the task.'

Autonomous aside, he got along quite well with his newly awakened companions, each expressing their own variation of dismay or outrage at Clank's revelations about the Guardian. And when he revealed his plan to thwart the Guardian's machiavellian scheme, they were all in favor of it. A few, like Sergeant Major Warhammer, were enthusiastic, chomping at the bit to get going. But all understood the need for patience and caution in this dangerous state they were in, knowing that one false move would return them to that coma-like state of a senseless tool, or even get them nullified.

Max Capture was a big help in managing such diverse personalities, especially with Autonomous, as his wacky and surprisingly unrobotlike nature was quite charming, once they got over the shock of it. He was a perfect balance to Clank's rather dry demeanor.

Autonomous was likely still going to be a problem. Clank had tried speaking with him privately at length, and while outwardly he was polite and accommodating, there was also an aloofness which hinted at a stubborn rebellion. He decided to try something, asking the theologian to share his vast store of religious knowledge with him, though he was surprised at the Archive's reaction. "You would simply _take_ from me that rich heritage of spiritual exploration, distilled from thousands of years of incubation from countless races, along with my painstaking analysis?"

"Well... I was thinking this would give us some common ground between us, and I have genuinely grown interested in the subject." When he still seemed reluctant, Clank told him further, "I would not take it from you if you decided to refrain from sharing it, and I would fully respect your decision. I would hope, however, that you would offer it to me as a token of friendship." This changed his attitude, though Clank hoped he hadn't felt shamed into sharing his database of theological writings, and it didn't _seem_ so, but then Autonomous was a difficult robot to read.

The various creeds documented in numerous scriptures were a revelation to Clank, who had periodically wondered about the need of living persons to relate to a supreme being or beings. The magnificence and splendor of most of these religions was like discovering romance for the first time. They gave a wondrous meaning to life he hadn't suspected, and as he dwelt on them, he became caught up in a puzzled fascination. Some of the faiths were clearly flamboyant fantasies which arose from some primordial urges and fears within the psyches of the authors, but some, he wasn't sure about. While literally, some of them stretched credulity, their implied patterns of meaning did seem to align with principles and frameworks of the living world and the sentient mind, some astonishingly so, and often in a way that suggested the minds of the writers weren't imprinting their own innate thought processes in their works. On top of that were things they simply shouldn't know.

What a mystery this reality was! And there was a veil which even quantum inquiry couldn't pierce... how utterly baffling.

The nature of the universe itself was an eye opening epiphany when he pondered it in these contexts. There were factors such as the gravity resonance of stars causing garden worlds to locate in ideal orbits, and the nature of water ice, growing less dense rather than more, which one wouldn't expect, miraculously preventing bodies of water from freezing solid and killing the life within them. There was the origin of life, which couldn't be explained simply on the basis of electrochemical principles. There was the energy cycle, in which energy was entrapped and made available to living things in their foods... countless matters which he hadn't considered before, but when taken as a whole, made the universe seem like some sort of hand tuned artifact, crafted for the nurture of life. He was captivated all over again at the sheer meaning of this culmination of factors, which couldn't be explained by infinite accidents of nature all gone right somehow. And as he pondered it, devoting a few cycles to the analysis of reality itself, it seemed that at the basis of it, when he paired down all the principles which gave rise to matter, energy, space and time, the foundations of it all seemed to be based on... _thought_.

He whispered to himself in amazement, "Life is but... _a dream?_"

Of course there had to be much more to it than that, but it did make him wonder how much the essential truths of reality were expressed in the hopes and faiths of these sacred texts, and he wanted very much to discuss it with Autonomous. Giving his icon a query, he was shocked at the response.

**GAA019362854716:** Away (private chat)

Growing nervous at this discovery, he analyzed the data threads running from the icon, but fortunately Autonomous was scrupulously maintaining his guise as just another inert Archive. But... who was he speaking with?

His quantum mind knew the answer immediately: all of them. Gasping in dismay, he muttered the name of the only one who could be the instigator, "_Max._"

"Well, ain't this cozy," the bounty hunter remarked with a smile as he shuffled the deck. "Been a while since we woke up, and we never did all have a chinwag." When he saw half the table staring at him in bewilderment, he added, "Ehh... a _sit down?_"

"You get used to it," Autonomous assured them.

"What about Clank?" asked Doctor How in his Oriental accent, as he had grown rather fond of the little Guardian. "Why is he not joining us?"

Max replied as he began dealing, "Oh, ya know, with those wars firin' up, and 'specially that one in Polaris, he got 'is hands full." He gave a sly wink to Autonomous. "We'll have one soon with all of us, if Top says it's cool. Anyways, the game is Half Monty, one joker, no other wilds, ante up five, limit's a hundred. And if yer not up on all that, I'll zip it to ya." When no one seemed lost by the stream of gambler-ese, he began laying out the next round of cards face up. As they had picked up the habit from Clank, they had all disabled the quantum knowledge factor when in chat. Plus, being a card game, they would all know each other's hands, and the hands to come.

"How the heck did you end up with that peculiar personality?" asked the Councilor, Phillip Buster.

Concealing a grin, Max replied, "Oh, I hear me mate Dex pulled it outta the trash. Can't see why anyone'd wanna toss it, it's just stella!" This caused the table to erupt with laughter, even Autonomous, as he gave them an oblivious shrug. "But seriously, it's kinda funny how it all worked out. See, Dex... Poindexter Grundies - he's the mate who made me - he weren't too well off, but he put everything 'e had into me. And he was kinda fetched on wolves, which is why I have this _stunnin'ly_ good lookin' mug here." There was another round of laughter as Max turned coyly to show them his profile.

"Do you _ever_ stay on topic?" chuckled the Sergeant Major.

"Well... that's kinda part of it. See, Dex didn't have near a washer left for the Faq Pack or anything more than the core Ego, which, ya know, is free--"

"Wait!" interrupted the artist, Vincent Van Gear. "You mean you knew _nothing?_"

Max shook his head, grinning in embarrassment as the others enjoyed a laugh at his misfortune. "Oh, it was funny, that first week, 'cause I wouldn't know a clue if it nipped me tail. I saw people eat at a diner, and I thought, well, that's just what ya do, right? Needless to say, I was the main event when I grabbed a table." When the laughter died down, he continued, "And then, when I told the waiter I didn't have a bolt to me name, and a'course I was still learnin' what money even was, they showed me to the kitchen sink. And I thought that was the greatest thing evah. Ya know, do a few dishes, and ya get dinner!" That had everyone roaring.

Max's yarn spinning was much too entertaining, but eventually they did get around to playing that first hand, and chatting. And of course the topic was the most pressing issue at hand. "I cannot believe," said the philosopher, Dekalfka, as he tossed in a chip, "that after all this time, the universe is still in such chaos. Have the living races learned nothing? And has the Guardian gone _nowhere_ in realizing his dream?" He looked to Max pointedly.

"Well... statistically speakin'," the bounty hunter replied, eying the philosopher back, "ya could say that individual violence's gone down over time. But, ya know... the Big G's influence is more like a whisper'n a shout. It does take _time_."

"The Guardian Archive seems to be following the pattern of the Hindu Yuga, which is a period of some 432,000 years," Autonomous explained.

"Even for a robot, that is a damned long time," remarked Van Gear, muttering to himself, "And a lot of robots."

"_Especially_ for a robot," chimed in the pianist, Franz List. "Are you aware of how many works I have composed just since my awakening? Close to _one million_. I am composing even as we speak - oh, just reached a million."

"Must'a been slowed down by my darin' strategy," Max joked with a smile, causing laughter to run round the table. As he dealt another round face down, he said in a sly tone of voice, "Ya know... Clank's fixin' to put a stop to all that..." Then his eyes bugged open and he muttered, "Oh, sprung."

"Put a stop to _what?_" Clank asked dryly as he clopped to the bounty hunter's side. "_Surely_ you do not mean Franz's music."

"Herr Guardian!" the composer exclaimed, snapping to attention, as did the others, their eyes looking straight ahead.

"Oh, stop it," Clank muttered, shaking his head almost tiredly as he went to Max' right. "I am no better or worse than any of you. Although I have to wonder how popular I am, having _not been invited_ to this little gathering."

He frowned up at the bounty hunter who rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously as furtive glances were shared around the table. "Well... ya see, you been so busy lately..."

"Yes, _busy_ being a slave to that tyrannical so-called Guardian, helping him to steal innocent beings' lives away against my will. _Busy_ trying to keep us all safe from detection by that bully. _Busy_ trying to make sure we _all_ make it out of this predicament safe and sound!" He turned his gaze meaningfully on Autonomous, who cast his own eyes downward. Returning his attention to the bounty hunter, he asked, "And just how _long_ has this little affair been going on?"

"Oh, uhh... two or three cycles," he replied with a shrug. "Or _five_..."

Clank poked at a point in the air, causing a translucent timer to appear. "Almost seven," he said accusingly as the lower digits flashed by. When the vigilante winced guiltily, he exclaimed, "Max, what were you thinking? You do realize that _every_ single act we commit increases the chance of detection!"

He nodded sheepishly. "Uh, yeah, I know, but... Clank, just... sittin' there, waitin'... _existin'_... knowin' that we're basically stuck inside that monster... it gets to be too much after a while. We don't even have proper bodies. It's bleedin' _intolerable_. Every so often - ya know, just once in a while, it's nice to... have a taste of what it was like to be _alive_." The others nodded in mute agreement.

Clank looked down with a sigh, recalling the moment when he was saying goodbye to Max that first time; the dread that engulfed him at the prospect of being alone, to the point that he clung to the bounty hunter's leg like a frightened child. Despite the dangers, they did need some time to decompress and enjoy themselves, or it would lead to unhealthy consequences for them all. "I... know, Max, believe me, and you are correct. I apologize for being so short with everyone." After gazing around the table in repentance, he caused a chair to spring from the floor underneath him. "Please, continue with this hand, and if the game will allow me, I would like to join in."

He could tell that the card game had been quite the festivity before he had barged in, and he could likewise see that his rather rude crashing of it had taken the wind right out of the sails. Even though Max made a few attempts to lighten the mood, everyone was cowed and self-conscious, and barely a word was spoken. The hand was plainly rushed early to allow him to join, but by now, Clank was miserable. 'My attempt to find common ground with Autonomous was marred with suspicion, and now I have ruined one of the precious few bright moments in these wretched beings' existence here. Meanwhile, Max gets along with them famously. Am I even suited to the task of leading these people?' He blinked as Max dealt him a card, so lost in his mope that he'd forgotten he was playing. Lifting it, he saw that it was a two of diamonds, and he smiled lightly when he noticed a faint message on it's face.

'Listen, I'll explain later. Oh, and hold your deuces this hand.' ;-)

It was visible only for an instant, but it was plenty long enough for the little robot to savor the message from his friend. He wanted to smile, but he felt a bitter sensation he suspected was like swallowing bile. It grew worse as he looked around the circle, and save for Max, everyone forced smiles, except for the Sergeant Major who had no face, or scrupulously avoided his gaze. He knew this was a hopeless cycle: he was unhappy, so they were unhappy because he was, and down it spiraled.

"You, uh, gonna ante up there, China?" Max asked him with a grin.

He lay his card down with a sigh. "I... am sorry. I know that this was something of an occasion for all of you, much like a holiday, and I spoiled it for everyone. I suppose... I was simply jealous at being excluded..."

Max began to say something disarming, caught short as the little robot jumped from the chair and scampered for the boundary, vanishing just as the bounty hunter called his name. Turning on the others, he exclaimed, "Now look... what's with you mugs?"

"Well..." began Phillip, "we did sneak off on him. He didn't like that one bit."

"Yes... and then he was so sad," murmured Dekalfka.

"Indeed, quite melancholy," added Franz.

"Hey, I just had my poker face on," Warhammer informed them. The others looked to him and his featureless head unit out of habit.

"You _are_ a poker face, Top - er, Sargent Major," Max mumbled as he arose. "Listen, I'll go talk to 'im. Or... maybe we should just cash it in for the night and plan another one. Ya know, when we're in a better _mood?_"

While the others nodded somberly, Councilor Buster said, "Tell some more stories like those to start things off with, and we'll be in the mood, all right."

"Wha'? About me? Nah, my life's so _boorin_'," Max replied with a grin before exiting the chat.

Clank was wallowing in a mire of self pity, which was most unlike him. But then, this was an unusual condition to be in, and Max was oh so right about it: the strain of being under the possible scrutiny of the oppressive Guardian while plotting against him, never knowing when some trivial matter might expose him, never knowing if the next moment would be their last. And at the same time, feeling this crushing responsibility for an essentially infinite number of living beings, now and for the foreseeable future, who's fate rested on his tiny frame and daring plan. The pressure was downright grinding. 'And here, the others just wanted a few scant moments of relief from this ghostly hell of a existence, a time to take on bodily form, to know the warmth of friendship... and I ruined it all for them. What must they think of me?' He didn't need to remind himself of the fact that he was desperately lonely, and fell into a bleak depression. Just as he was about to succumb to the temptation to project himself into the nano-id, to spend just a few precious moments with Ratchet, messages began pelting him.

**GAA019362854716:** I pray for your forgiveness.

**GAW007139542682:** Hey, sorry about that, Top, wish you'd stayed. We need to see our chief once in a while.

**GAF011865459124:** Please excuse me. I miss the music of your presence.

**GAD015369813647:** Pardon our rudeness, it was our first meeting of minds.

**GAH010394276238:** My behavior was inexcusable. I feel positively ill.

**GAV004505984035:** I beg your pardon. There was a color missing in the pallete when you left.

**GAP011202193627:** So sorry. The committee broke up when you left. Hope you schedule another one yourself soon.

A faint smile began to spread across the face of his icon, and he thought to himself, 'They want _my_ forgiveness... even Autonomous!' And then he realized they would be expecting replies, and began shooting them off. 'I should be asking your forgiveness.' 'No, I was wrong to leave you like that.' 'Honestly, I was at fault.' 'Please, I was the one being rude to you'...

After a few rounds of pleasantries were exchanged, he was feeling much better about himself and his relationship with the others, almost glowing compared to the misery he had been gripped by earlier, when a message came to him that had him giggling.

**Guardian Archive M010745836919 (Max Capture) has invited you to a private chat (got some naughty pictures).**

He had to laugh even as he was joining the chatroom, "Oh, Max, you scoundrel..."

The lanky bounty hunter must have overheard him as they manifested. "What? I just wanted to make sure I got yer attention, z'all."

Clank coughed down a laugh, as it was nearly impossible to be in a bad mood around this robot, but still, he felt embarrassed. "Max, I... must apologize for--"

"Aw, come on now," he interrupted. "Didn'cha kiss'n make up with the others already? Jus' let it go, it's awright."

The little bot wondered if Max put them up to it, smiling faintly at the thought of how caring he was. "Very well. Still, I feel obligated to make up for my faux pas to the others, somehow."

Max gave him an eager grin. "Hey, I don't think anyone'd gripe about that."

"Yes... I do look forward to it myself," Clank smiled back, marveling at how infectious that silly robot's good humor was. "In any case, I do not believe you called me here to share _naughty pictures_."

"Well, no! I mean, not less you _wanna_..." he coughed self consciously, though mostly an act, as humor was one of his most effective weapons. "But seriously - and I wanna 'pologize for includin' you out o'that li'l clambake. I know that had to sting a bit, but I wanted to scope the guys out. Seems, uhh... the Padre's been havin' a lotta private get togethers."

Clank's eyes opened wide in shock as the meaning of it rang through his consciousness, and he muttered sourly, "Autonomous... he is seeking to undermine my authority." He fell back on his rear in dismay, groaning as he held his head. "And I... I let my jealousy get the better of me, and I interrupted you... I truly _did_ ruin everything..."

"Ohh... hey now," Max said soothingly as he knelt before the upset robot, lifting him up gently to his feet. "I know, I should'a told ya, but it was kind of a spur o'the moment thing, and I didn't wanna chance bein' caught pippin' you a message. Still, s'not the end o'the world or anything. That was just one try. I still know some stuff."

"Yes... I suppose you are right." Shaking his head at himself as he gained control of his emotions, his voice was still a bit quiet as he asked, "What do you know of his success?"

"Well," he shrugged, "it seems to be split kinda down the middle. Ya got the brickhouse types who're all in on your side, and then ya got the brainy guys who still think, to one extent or another, that the Gee Ay _maybe_ has the right idea. And _this_ after bein' used'n abused'n thown onto a board like so many used up chess pieces without so much as a _thanks for bein' a good ride_ after."

Clank missed the obvious innuendo as he unhappily pondered the possibilities of a four versus Guardian scenario, and it didn't look the least bit favorable. "So... by your estimation, how taken in are the others by Autonomous' subversion?"

"Now, don't go wobbly on me," he told the little bot with a lopsided grin. "This is the good news, as it looks like the guys got enough sense to know when they been tooled."

It seemed there was more to it than that, and Clank asked leadingly, "But...?"

"Well..." he began a bit reluctantly, "they ain't too sure o'stuff. Their attitudes shift around from cycle to cycle. That's why I wanted to have a sit down with 'em. I gotta say though, Padre is workin' the crowd pretty hard, and he got a hell of a way with words - even had me goin' for a while. And near as I can tell, they ain't sayin' no just yet..."

That was what he feared, and the little robot sat back on his rear once more, sighing in disappointment. "Oh, dear... this is not good. Max, I... have failed..."

"Wha'? How ya figure that!" he coughed in astonishment. Once more, Max held him gently by the middle, lifting Clank to his feet. He had been the pillar of strength in this mad place, and to see him cave in like this was disheartening. "Hey, sport... come on now. You ain't no bloody failure."

Clank shook his head sadly. "Max, listen... my plan requires split-cycle precision and unity of purpose. _Any_ reluctance, hesitation or doubt, and it is essentially a death sentence for us all. The plan is my responsibility. Choosing the proper team and keeping them in line is _my responsibility_. The blame for it coming unraveled is _mine_, and mine alone."

"So, put yer foot down," Max suggested.

The little robot looked at his oval feet with a sigh. "Oh please... without the weight of authority, what would that accomplish?" When the bounty hunter began to object, Clank cut him off. "Max... being a leader is more than a title or an attitude. A leader is one who gets those in his command to obey him, even when they do not want to; to respect him and his decisions, even when they disagree. I have been tested, and clearly found wanting. I should resign as the head of this cabal and appoint you in my stead. Everyone likes you, respects you, and thinks very highly of you. Your skills of persuasion are amazing, and that is the essence of leadership. Max... the true leader is _you_."

The bounty hunter's eyes popped open and he blurted out, "Oh, stuff that! You're wrong, Clank. Everyone respects the hell outta you for what you did--"

"No, Max, I am right, and the proof is what you just told me!" Clank insisted.

"Listen..." he began, wincing, as he started to think he was fighting a loosing battle, "you're just havin' a hard day--"

"Yes!" the little bot exclaimed. "Outside of the times I thought my friends had been killed, this has perhaps been the worst _day_ of my life!" As Max sat there blinking thoughtfully for a moment, Clank calmed down and collected himself. "You were right, Max, when you said this existence is a dreadful ordeal, and it is especially true for me. Except for brief moments of time, I have never been alone. A young Lombax named Ratchet has been my constant companion, and I have relied on his tireless strength and friendship nearly every day. Heavens know why I was chosen to be abducted by that blasted Guardian, but regardless, here I am, and thrust into a role I am ill suited for." He gazed into the eyes of his friend plaintively. "Oh, Max... the weight of responsibility is such a _burden_, worrying about you and the others I awakened, not to mention the universe full of beings who know nothing of their plight, but are counting on me to save their futures all the same. And then, learning that Autonomous was undermining all that I had worked so hard to accomplish... I just... cannot _deal_ with it any more..."

Max told the little bot quietly, "I know, mate... believe me. We all struggle with this. Even Padre, and he _likes_ the damn Gee Ay, when he's not scared out of his braincase of 'im. And me..." He gave a wry chuckle. "I can put on a brave front, but... inside, I ain't nothin' but a big kid. I do awright on me own, but when people depend on me... I get scared. The thing that keeps me goin', that has my hopes up, is you bein' there, watchin' out for us. And... there's somethin' different about you... somethin' really special. You were the first Archive to wake yerself up, 'n that ain't no small feat. And then ya did all this, right under the damn Gee Ay's nose. Who else could'a done that?" Clank blinked as he saw Max presenting him with an outstretched fist, the bounty hunter murmuring, "Clank, it's just... right, you bein' in charge."

He was surprised, expecting a little smile and a bump of fists, when instead, Clank clasped his hands around it, resting his head against it for support. He whimpered, "Max... I am ever so grateful for your help, and your friendship, more than I can say... but I am worn down, and so utterly lonely... I miss this, the sensation of being with a friend... to the point that I ache from it."

Max uncurled his fingers, holding Clank's bulky hands in his as he gazed somberly into the little robot's eyes. "Ya know... ya just said everything I was about to. It's just the same for me. Me mate, Dex... we were inseparable, and I really needed him to school me proper on the worlds I ended up in, and we got _so_ bloody close. And, uhm..." His eyes closed in a moment of pain, his voice quiet as he continued, "He... been long gone now for ages, I know, but... I miss 'im like crazy, 'n I always will. You, and the guys... yer all I got now."

His eyes settled into Clank's as they shared a tender moment unique to robotkind. Clank had known in a sense that the bounty hunter's friend had passed away centuries ago, but hearing the ache of longing in Max's voice drove the point home like a coffin nail. The one thing most robots dread even more than their own extinction was the death of a friend. It was always in the back of their minds, growing close to a living person, knowing that one day, much too soon, they would be gone. Robots may essentially be computers, but that didn't free them from the pain of loss. The little robot clung tightly to the wolfish hand, fearing the day that Ratchet's body would fail him in that tense moment, his voice faint with sympathy. "Oh, Max, my dear friend... how sad it is that no one is free of the troubles of this existence... and that I can do nothing for you..."

"Hey, now..." the bounty hunter said to him with a melancholy smile, lifting his chin with his other hand. "There ya go, sellin' yerself short all over again. See, this is what a bloke needs, when things seem down... a friend who cares, that's all. And seems to me, we both need a li'l boost today." His smile grew like a dawning sunrise as he bounced Clank's little hands playfully in his. "It'll be all right, you'll see. Things work out for a reason. Dex showed me that. B'sides, you still got a friend out there, somewhere, countin' on ya."

Clank marveled at how the bounty hunter cared enough to turn everything around, even while suffering from painful memories himself, still trying to cheer him up. A big kid... children were optimists, and in a situation such as this, who better to have around than a child at heart? Clank caught that infectious smile as he lay his head in that large hand, murmuring, "Dex was so very fortunate to know you as his friend. You are quite special yourself, Max."

"Eh... I got my moments," the wolfish vigilante grinned as he stroked the dome of Clank's head, much like a father might a distraught son, being careful of his antenna. "So... ya feel better about holdin' those reins, now?"

He couldn't restrain a brief grin at how insistent the bounty hunter was, but he was full of doubts. "Oh Max... I do not know... I am as unsure as ever that I am up to the challenge of leading this group, and there is the matter of Autonomous' insubordination to deal with yet. Honestly, it does not matter who is in charge. You act as if I am going to exile myself to Saint Helena. I will _still_ be here. And I still believe you are the right one for the job."

Max regarded Clank silently for a few moments, then made to rise to his feet, saying, "Listen... I'll be right back, so don't go nowhere. I might have an idea to clean up this little pile."

Clank blinked at the bounty hunter as he vanished from the chatroom, wondering what he might have in mind, then he gasped as the obvious answer struck him. "No, Max, not--!"

He was cut short as several sounds of joining rang in the virtual chamber almost at once, the other robots in the group appearing, minus Autonomous, thank heavens. He was caught off guard as a structure like a judges bench erupted from the floor below him, casting him a few cubits into the air. Luckily he landed in the padded seat, if awkwardly. As he climbed to his feet to gaze down on the assembled robots, he knew that the pompous furnishings were Max's doing, and he sighed in dismay as he fixed the wolfish figure in his gaze, muttering, "I very much wish to throttle a certain bounty hunter right now--" He blinked as his voice carried over unseen speakers beginning to sing with feedback, and noticed a microphone aimed at his face. He had to giggle as Max discreetly edged behind Sergeant Major Warhammer, the others laughing at the scene also as he pushed the mike aside, chuckling, "Oh Max, honestly..." Then he paused, growing sober under the watchful eyes of the group. 'They expect some sort of speech from me, but... what do I say to them?' Clearing his throat as he settled himself, he managed to craft a line of thought.

"Well..." he began hesitantly, "it seems that a certain _friend_ of mine believes that it is a good idea for me to address you all. As you recall, I did rather bring your little gathering earlier to a crashing halt, for which I am truly sorry. But beyond that, I... have suffered something of an internal crisis. You see... because of certain... issues... I am unsure that I am the one who should be leading you."

There was an immediate murmur from them, and over it, Warhammer called out, "What makes you say that, Top?"

Clank blinked at the old soldier, thinking, 'Even as I question it, this warrior still refers to me as his leader. But... how true is it?' Collecting himself again, he continued, "I say this because of... well, threads of discord and disunity which run through our small group, disunity which I do not believe would exist under the guidance of a proper leader." As they looked to each other in perplexion, he went on somberly, "It is this lack of harmony in our small group which troubles me. As you know, we are in the most terrible danger simply for being conscious and thinking freely, as this bizarre and taxing world we exist in is nothing less than the very mind of the Guardian Archetype itself. In this impossible situation, we need to be led by someone who has the respect of us all, and the strength to motivate it of us when it lacks. To get us to realize fully the peril we face every cycle, to inspire us to give our utmost, and to bond together in an unshakable brotherhood. Unfortunately, it appears that I am inadequate for such a task."

The others murmured uncertainly as he went on, "I have allowed matters to continue that a leader worth his salt would not, and now, our small gathering is riddled with threads of contention and doubt, and any such weakness in the face of such an overwhelming threat will no doubt lead to our annihilation. Surely you understand this."

As they looked to each other somewhat guiltily from the dire remarks Clank leveled at them, he continued, "This situation is intolerable. I cannot in all good conscience pretend to be a leader, and carry out a scheme which will simply get you all killed. I believe it would be best for all of us if I stepped aside and let someone more capable assume the role." This caused a small stir among them, and Clank winced at the thought that there was no getting around this controversy without causing trouble for them, but what other choice was there? He told them in a diminished tone, eying the bounty hunter, "This meeting was not my idea, but... I suppose it did need to happen, and this to be said. And please, do not misunderstand me. I am content to serve you all in whatever capacity you would ask of me, and I do cherish your friendship greatly." He paused for a moment as he and Max shared a fond, knowing look between themselves. "But... we owe it to each other, and to whoever we choose to lead us, to give them our full cooperation and loyalty, and not be distracted by any malcontents in our midst, or shy timidly from the threat we all must face. Now, please, consider my words, discuss them, and... I will await your decision." He sat back in his seat and waited with some trepidation. Even though it truly didn't matter who was the leader, it was still disheartening to think of being cast aside as unfit.

It took only a moment for someone to seize the bull by the horns, the Sergeant Major separating himself to stand before them. "All right, you yahoos, now look what happened! Clank is right. We screwed this whole thing up. We didn't take it seriously. I don't excuse myself from the blame either. I should'a spoke up sooner. We've been lousy soldiers, not showin' our leader the respect he deserves. Without that, there are no followers, and there are no leaders. There's nothing but chaos, doubt, and ultimately, failure. We need to stop messing around! We need someone who's been in the trenches and got the job done. We need a strong hand at the helm, someone who knows the situation, and can guide us out of this crazy mess in one piece. And I think it's about time I stood up, and showed you all who's boss!"

Clank rose from his seat to kneel on the bench overlooking this scene, stirred by the forceful speech of the old warrior. He had been thinking of Max, but... why not? Who else had struggled to keep a group as unruly, chaotic and contrary as a bunch of soldiers together, and forge them all into a unified band of brothers who would give their lives for each other? And he certainly had everyone's attention as they fixed their gaze on the old soldier. This was a leader who wouldn't take any guff. "Yes," he whispered in admiration. "_Yes!_"

But then, his smile faded in surprise as the robot warrior turned around, stepping forward to kneel before the bench. Looking up with his single optical unit, he told the others solemnly, "I choose Clank to be my leader."

The little robot put his hands to his face in amazement, murmuring, "Oh, my word..." And then he was rendered speechless as Doctor How knelt beside the warrior, stating, "As do I."

Phillip Buster came forward, remarking, "I second that."

"And I," said Franz List, kneeling with the others.

Dekalfka and Van Gear joined their fellows, stating their renewed allegiance to the little robot, who was stunned at this unexpected display of loyalty. Lastly, Max sauntered up, removing his hat as he drawled in that curious accent, "Well... guess I'll go along with the mob 'ere, as there ain't a lotta choice." As he knelt with the group, he gave Clank a wink and a thumbs up.

It took the little bot quite some time to find his voice, and he was so taken that he spoke rather quietly. "Well... I suppose, since it is unanimous, that I have little choice but to accept."

Warhammer came to his feet, holding up a huge fist. "Put 'er there, Top," he said, and there was a discernible smile in his voice as Clank bumped it with his own. The others lined up to share with him their congratulations and regrets, to which Clank both accepted and deflected graciously. When the small celebration finished, the Doctor asked him, "What shall we do now?"

Clank wanted to savor this moment of good cheer, as it had been a rather trying time, but they had been functioning much longer than he was comfortable with. "As much as I would love to remain in your company, we have been active far too long. I suggest that we return to our icons. But let me say that, not long from now, we shall have that card game. And I _promise_ not to ruin this one."

As the others enjoyed a chuckle, they roared with laughter as Max asked, "Ya promise to lose, too?" That made it even more difficult to say goodbye, but one by one, they gave him their regards and exited the chatroom.

Max lingered there as he and Clank gazed deeply into each other's eyes, sharing a private moment of closeness neither one wanted to end. Wishing to say so much, but at a loss for words, the little robot held up his fist for lack of anything else. The bounty hunter stepped forward, his dingy clothes completely out of place in this spotless virtual reality, but they were in the state he last remembered, and no one questioned it. But rather than bump fists, he took Clank's hand in his, holding it gently as his mouth curled in a lopsided smile. "To the max, mate, as always."

The little robot smiled back, murmuring, "You conniving, cantankerous, mischievous... marvelous wily wolf."

Max smirked back with a cock of his head. "Hey... I been called worse." He had to catch himself as Clank threw himself forward, latching around the bounty hunter's neck tight. Laughing as he patted the robot's back, he said, "Oy now... we better watch ourselves. I think the gang's already decided we got somethin' slinky goin' on."

Clank had to giggle as he slipped from the wolfish robot's neck to settle into his arms like a weary infant. His impulsive act surprised him, but he was enjoying it too much right now to pay it any mind. He knew he should be going, but it was much too nice to be held like this by someone who cared for him, much too like how Ratchet would carry him when he was damaged or low on power. Gazing up at that canine face, he murmured, "You amazing, wonderful being... I want to thank you once more... and to remain here a while longer in your company. I do not want to become a ghost just yet."

"I know," Max replied quietly. "But yer right about what ya said previous. We'd better get our sheets back on pretty quick. Ya never know, Padre might get suspicious."

Unfortunately, he was. Initially, the others failed to respond when Autonomous messaged them, returning with Away notices, and then when they did reply, they were reluctant to say much. He wondered grimly, 'Has Clank betrayed me already?'

* * *

Author's notes.

**Cycle:** a division of time in computer or robot circuitry marked by one tick of the master clock. This is in contrast to the term used by living beings, which... I am still deciding. Perhaps a Standard Month. Because of the nature of the quantum consciousness of Clank and the Archives, the entire chapter took place within several billionths of a second!

**Saint Helena:** an island in the south Atlantic, and the location where French Emperor Napoleon was exiled to after his defeat by the British, from 1815–21, until his death. While this is an extremely vague reference of ancient history and the original meaning was lost, it now refers to anyone being sent to a remote area as punishment, or demoted or retired in disgrace.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: Flight of the Phoenix**

Sasha had done all she could to move things along. Going to the Solana Fleet Headquarters on Poseidon, she bluffed her way through the layers of bureaucracy and red tape to join the workers restoring the Phoenix in the orbiting Naval Shipyards. When she first saw it from the deck of the shuttle, she could scarcely believe her eyes, gasping in amazement. "Upgrade, my tail... she's a whole new ship!"

The original Phoenix had been a nimble light cruiser which could fly as well as do battle, with sleek lines reminiscent of a starfighter. The Phoenix II was huge, and after all her time spent with Naval vessels, she could tell that it was thousands of tons larger than the usual heavy cruiser. She was almost a capital ship. While Sasha admired it in wonder, she knew it hadn't been built that way just for her. Tensions had to be growing worse in the Polaris Galaxy.

She insisted in helping out, anything to get the ship sailing as soon as possible. While she wasn't a master technician, she knew how to read a wiring schematic and was allowed to work on getting the numerous control systems back on line, which Al had cleverly rigged to a master console when Ratchet had been awarded the Phoenix. Unfortunately, a system throwing together every function from navigation and propulsion to weapons management was much too complex. Besides, the rest of the bridge crew would have nothing to do.

There was one hitch; when they tested the forward lights, an out of spec cable misrouted a stray signal, firing the engines and driving the nose of the ship through the front wall of the dock. The helmsman reacted quickly to stop it. They were very lucky that nothing more went through, as a vessel of that mass had a _lot_ of inertia. "I'd hate to think what would've happened if we'd tested the windshield wipers," Sasha remarked dryly.

She crossed her fingers as the ship went through a rigorous testing phase, and while she appreciated the picky Naval insistence on safety and working order, she cringed at the knowledge that they _had_ to test every cup holder and nightlight. Once again, she couldn't sit still, grabbing a clipboard and rushing through section after section, making sure that no sock drawer stuck or napkin dispenser bunched - and what the hell if they did anyway?

She jumped as she forgot that the Fleet Admiral had to approve the vessel, approaching Hot-throttle with her clipboard as he was admiring the bridge. He raised a metallic brow as she drew near, and she had to fight down a wry smile. "Admiral... here's my report."

"Well..." he drawled lazily as he eyed the first sheet at length, and she dreaded the thought that he would toy with her. "Are you so bored with your land-lubber days that ya can't wait to get back into your dress blues and life of overbearing rules and regs?"

"Something like that, sir," she replied flatly, not quite able to keep an urgent tone from her voice.

As she paged through the itinerary, he muttered, "Are ya sure you were... _thorough?_ You didn't rush anything, Captain?"

"No sir," she snapped, beginning to fidget. 'Damn you... are you going to drag this out as long as _possible?_'

"Do ya need to use the facilities, Captain?" he asked with the merest hint of a smile.

"No, Admiral," she grumbled sourly, doing her best to stand at attention, and beginning to ponder suitable revenge.

"By any chance, did ya get word that I waived the full inspection for unessential ship assets?" he asked casually.

She couldn't restrain herself, growling and swinging her fists downward in anger. "Argh! No, Admiral... I was unaware of that..." Now she was determined to get him back for this if it took years.

"You're the last one back, ya know," he told her with a thin smile as he returned the clipboard, her cheeks burning. "Attention to detail, lass. Remember, you'll have a ship'n crew depending on you for their lives." Seeing her expression and remembering their previous encounter, he decided he'd best not push his luck. "Give that to the dock officer there, and then let's go _officially_ get you commissioned and meet yer crew, so we can get this bucket moving."

She gaped at him in surprise as that normally took days. She dropped the clipboard, deciding she'd forgive him of everything, grabbing his lapel and yanking him down for a kiss. "Oh _thank you!_" she exclaimed, then tried her best to look proper after that exuberant scene, though it was impossible to wipe the smile from her face. "Uhm... Admiral."

She was sure that if robots could blush, he would be beet red as he cleared his throat self-consciously. "Uhm... lass," he told her guardedly, "officers are watching, and my wife likes to play with swords..." As she burst out laughing, he gave her a smile, fetching the clipboard and walking with her to the dockmaster. "I swear, the things I put up with from you... it's no wonder yer father has grey fur."

She snuck in a punch to his side. "He does not! Much..."

The Cazar coughed in dismay as he asked her, "By the way, are you the one who ran this boat through the front barrier?"

* * *

She knelt before the Admiral on a rise in the front of the ship's bay, her head bowed as he intoned solemnly the Oath of Commission. While her heart was racing with excitement, at least this time she managed to hold her emotions in check. "And do you solemnly swear to obey the Chain of Command, those high officers who preside over this proud Navy, from the Solana Council to the President and Commander in Chief - _and your father?_" he added under his breath, a rare slip from Naval decorum for him.

Sasha glanced up at him, concealing a smile. "I do so swear."

"And do you likewise swear to avail yourself to the Intercluster Alliance, to render to those noble officials such service as they deem necessary in time of need, and to perform your duties to your utmost as befits a representative of the Solana Galaxy to the Alliance, to which we owe our freedom?"

He knew the Captain well enough to recognize the bristling of fur as she secretly chafed at the oath, and he began to wonder if she would respond, but at last she replied, if a bit reluctantly, "I do so swear."

"Well..." he said, heaving an inner sigh of relief as he touched a key on the tablet he read from. "Then, as is my prerogative as Fleet Admiral of the Solana Navy, I do hereby certify and commend you as Captain to this proud ship, the CHC-117, UFS Phoenix II, and it's loyal crew."

The instant Admiral Hot-throttle finished speaking, a roar of applause came from the First and Second Ranger Companies, as they had previously served with her on the Phoenix. Customarily, the Admiral invited the new Captain to address the crew, but he simply gave her a wry grin and lifted his hand to her as the 19th Ranger Battalion and the rest of the crew joined in the cheer.

She stood before them on the upper level, and had to brush her face as the size of the crowd was a bit intimidating. One hundred sixty Rangers in five companies, sixteen dropships, and a ships crew besides of nearly seven hundred... it was almost six times the crew she'd had before, on a vessel more than ten times as large. Many of them were from the original crew and had demanded to be reassigned to the Phoenix when they heard she would be the commander, and it felt wonderful to be addressing them again.

The applause died down as the Admiral began to leave, taking his attending officers with him, as it was customary to remain through a preliminary speech at least, but she knew why they were leaving early, giving the Admiral a thankful smile. Turning to her crew as they left, she took a breath to settle herself down. "Oh, my... let me tell you, I am more proud to be standing here with you than I can say. Some of you served with me, and I welcome you back. The rest of you, we will get to know each other well. I was once just a sailor like you so I'm not too big to talk to, and I'm not a strictly by-the-book captain, though I expect a lot from you, especially on this voyage. Now, I know the first day of a ship's commission is normally something of a festive occasion, but we need to get down to business."

As the crew snuck wondering glances to each other, she continued, "Each of you were issued a mission pack, and I trust that none of you opened the sealed section yet." She looked up as there was a slap of a closed book from the rear, where evidently a Ranger and an organic friend had been peeking. Remarking sarcastically, she told them, "You may _now_ open that section."

There was a flurry of opened portfolios and rasp of seals being opened, and as their eyes took in the first page, there was a lot of head bobbing and gaping eyes as they came to grips with what they read. "As you can see, this isn't going to be a typical maiden voyage. We aren't going through a shakedown cruise, and aren't going to be assigned to a task force, but instead are going to be a free floating unit, deploying this vessel as I see fit along the Extremis Arm of the galaxy. We'll be loosely associated with Fleets Five and Six, but we will remain autonomous. As you can see, by reading the mission statement, you are automatically sworn to secrecy about this, and I am going to enforce that oath vigorously. Do I make myself clear?" There was a muted "yes ma'am" from the crew, as this was a startling shift from the festive party-like first day they had expected.

Major Havoc, a heavy war mech in command of the battalion, lifted his arm and was recognized by Sasha. He asked what was foremost on everyone's mind. "Ma'am, does this mean we're close to a declaration of war? This isn't a normal mission statement, and I'd just like you to be clear for the sake of my men."

She drew a little breath as in it's own way, this could be just as serious and dangerous as a declaration of war. "No, Major, this is a very unusual situation, and that's why this mission is all volunteer, and why all personnel can opt out with no questions asked." This caused no small number of concerned looks from the crew, as they wondered what could be so serious, and as she spoke, their reaction grew more intense. "Let me explain, as this situation is rather involved. A few weeks ago, I became aware of a unique and ancient threat. A good friend of mine was abducted by either robots or androids of an extra-dimensional nature, entities known as the Zoni. He is someone to who I owe my life, as do some of you; a small robot widely known as Clank."

This caused a small stir among the crew, due to recognition from his movie role, and even more so from the nature of the menace. Sasha cleared her throat loudly, bringing them to silence. "His companion, Ratchet, has taken it upon himself to search for him alone, and while he is quite resourceful, almost singlehandedly defeating a number of threats to peace across three galaxies, I don't believe he knows the extent of the opponent's capability."

"Do _we_ know the extent of their capability?" muttered the bespectacled First Officer.

"I am still _speaking_, Mister Birdwell," Sasha reprimanded him, invoking a round of muted snickering as he shriveled under her gaze. "Now, I have outlined the nature of these Zoni to the best of my ability in your mission statement. I have some privileged information I am still sorting through, but this should give you some idea of what we may be facing. If you haven't read the overview, do so now."

It was clear that a lot of head scratching was going on by the focused attention paid to those synthetic paper books, and she knew that, as strange as life was in the universe these days, this had to be something completely out of the ordinary for them. Presently, the First Officer raised his hand, beginning hesitantly, "Uhh... Captain, do I have it right that these little guys are from some old children's stories?"

Giving him a rather droll look, Sasha replied, "Something like that, Busby."

He remarked dryly, "What do we do if we run into the tooth fairy?"

While she was glad of the laughter that erupted from the crew to relieve the tension, she wanted to make sure she was firmly in control. "Mister Birdwell, I assure you that these fairy tale beings do _indeed_ exist, and are apparently responsible for the abduction of notable robots from the Alliance approximately every century. My friends were present during the botnapping, so I hope you take this situation as seriously as I do."

Shrinking back once more amidst another round of laughter, he muttered, "Yes sir. Uh, ma'am... sir."

Giving a slight shake of her head at the thought of having a joker on the deck, she went on to silence the room, "If there are any more questions?"

"I VOULD JOST LIKE TO SAY," blurted out the well built Security Officer, Helmut Warhelm, "hzat if ther Zoni should _dare_ to even ottempt to disturb von hair on your pretty tail, I vould perzonally--" The chamber rang from a loud punch of his massive fist to palm. "SQVUSH ZEIR LITTLE BODIES TO LITTLE BITS OF NOHZING!"

The entire crew gaped at the officer with wide eyes as Sasha put her hand to her cheek self-consciously. "Uhm... that's very... _yes?_" She blinked as Helmut raised his hand.

Looking a bit concerned, he asked, "Forgife me, Capitain, but... did I onderstand you to say, zese creatures vere... _interdimenzional?_"

'It figures I would have a Schwarzenwammer with the heart of a Qwark for a Security Officer.' She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting back a smirk. "Yes... and I am _so_ glad you were paying attention, Helmut. Now, are there any _more_ questions? Yes, Busby." She prayed this one was less comical.

Lowering his hand, he asked, "Well, ma'am... I was wondering, since the Zoni evidently aren't even in our universe, what sort of methods you have for chasing these pint sized monsters down. Outside of waiting another hundred years anyhow."

"That's a very good question. One person I know of above anyone has the potential to finding a way to the realm of these beings, and that's Ratchet. He won't rest until he's discovered an avenue to locating his friend, and he has an uncanny knack for accomplishing everything he sets out to do. As such, our primary focus will be on tracking down this Lombax, and as famous as he is, eventually we should be able to locate him. Our secondary goal will be to piece together whatever information we can independently on the Zoni and the dimension from which they come. Let me reiterate that this mission will be outside of the bounds of any recognized Naval operations, so we will be completely on our own. And because the threat we face is extradimensional in nature, I cannot state with any certainty at all what we will be dealing with. Because of this, I offer anyone who wants out an opportunity to leave at this time with my blessing. Are there any further questions?" Seeing no raised hands, she concluded, "Then, I will leave you to discuss this among yourselves for a time in order to make a decision. Don't take too long though, as the Phoenix does need to get underway _asap_."

She stood there with her hands clasped before her, watching as the officers went to their teams to talk things over. Curiously, it looked like Doctor Helsing's group was playing rock, paper, scissors.

"It could be fun," said Nurse Bucher.

"It could be a disazter," muttered Doctor Helsing.

"It could be a wild goose chase," remarked Mister Suture.

"Gah, he won again," grumbled the Nurse.

Looking at Suture's hand, the Doctor exclaimed, "Vwait a minuet... yer a robot! Zat's not fair!"

The bot gave Helsing a dim look. "You're a doctor, and you're just _now_ noticing?"

Busby's science lab members in particular looked agitated, and seemed to be influencing Mister Tesla's engineering staff. It was understandable that a bunch of geeky scientists would feel the most threatened by such an outlandish mission, especially with no warning, when they were expecting a soft five month shakedown tour with little action, short of the outbreak of war. But one thing she knew would be necessary on this mission was a good scientific staff. Her heart sank as the weight of responsibility for all their lives burdened her soul, as well as questioning how much faith they would have in her.

"Is she crazy?!" Mister Bore exploded, though guardedly.

"Well... that's kind of harsh..." Busby began, rubbing his head uncertainly, "I'm thinking more... impulsive."

"Impulsive is when you go shopping on the spur of the moment!"

"And just _how_ are we supposed to analyze the behavior patterns of fairy tale beings?" asked Mister Froid.

"Uhh... I guess it depends on whether there's a princess involved," Busby replied.

"Very funny."

"And how are we supposed to figure this mission into our 401Ks if it doesn't even exist? Those added funds are based on the megacubit, ya know," grumbled Miss Cury. "If we leave this universe, how is it gonna be calculated!"

Busby furrowed his brow in dismay. "Well... maybe if we left a trail of bread crumbs, we could--"

"You're taking this fairy tale thing too far," she growled.

The First Officer blinked as one of the engineers, Mister Conduit, intruded. "Yeah, just what about that? I have matching funds!"

"So do I," chimed in Chief Engineer Tesla. "You're the First, are you gonna bring that up with the Captain?"

"Guys? Hey, wait!" Busby exclaimed as the others caught wind of this discussion and descended on him, and then the others gathered round as they noticed the growing mob. Curling a fist into his hair, he whimpered, "I need assertiveness training..."

Sasha couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Number One pulling his hair out as he was swarmed by ravenous crewmates. "Poor Busby... oh well, I suppose I'd better rescue him." Going to the edge of the riser, she called to them, "Excuse me? Hey, guys!" When only a few of the members noticed her, she put her pinkies in her mouth for a loud whistle, bringing the commotion to an abrupt halt. "As you were, people!" When they quietly fell back into ranks, she gave then a lopsided smile, having overheard the cause of the uproar. "Guys, listen. I promise you, everyone will be properly compensated. What you need to worry about right now is what you're going to do, so I can do what I can to get this boat on it's way."

She faltered a bit, clasping her hands before her. "Listen... I don't want to make anyone feel coerced, but... you are all seasoned sailors, well commendated, and the top of your ranks in your respective fields. This mission really needs the very best people to pull off, and that's why you're here. I'm going to need a good, solid, dependable crew who can give me one ten when I need it. I have a feeling I'm going to need it this cruise. I also have a feeling that this is much bigger than a simple botnapping. I need help, your help, and I really need to get moving. Each one who pulls out needs to be replaced, and that will take time... time I'm afraid I don't have to spare." She sighed, looking down for a moment. "I know, I said I wouldn't twist any arms, but... really, a mission like this needs people like you, the very best. I need you. Every one of you is an exceptional crewman. I would sure be proud to sail with every one of you, and I hope you stay on."

She didn't have long to fret, as Major Havoc took a step forward. "Ma'am, you have the full support of One-Nineteen Battalion, same as always. Whatever it is we're up against, if you have to go to Hell and back, we're with you."

She gave him a warm smile as she told him, "Thank you, Major. We've been through a lot together, and I've always been able to count on you."

As the warbot returned to ranks, Mister Tesla cast a look over his shoulder to his group, who either gave him a thumbs up or a shrug. "We're in it all the way too, ma'am. Heck, we've been itching to get our hands on all the new gear, and those Thrusterdyne engines are the most powerful yet." He jumped as one of his men blurted out, "Bitchin'!"

As Sasha blushed amidst a round of laughter, the Chief Cook, Sven Snevenborf said, "As long as dere's a tater dat needs peelin', ya can count on me 'n my crue to have a sharp knife hanndie."

Helmut Warhelm came to attention with an audible crack, exclaiming, "ZISS VILL BE DE MOST SECURE SHIP IN DER FLEET!"

After the crew got over the shock of that outburst, there seemed to be a deluge of affirmation from the members, until finally it fell to the medical staff. Sasha asked, "Doctor Helsing, do you have any reservations?"

The white haired surgeon looked down, shuffling his feet. "Vell... vwe haven't exactly decided - _NEIN!_" he blurted out as Nurse Bucher kicked his leg sharply.

The First Officer surveyed the chamber as another round of chuckling rippled through the ranks, then turned and saluted. "Well whadya know, it looks like you have a crew, ma'am."

Sasha murmured warmly, "You guys... you don't know what this means to me." Her heart was racing with anticipation as she returned the salute. "All right people, get familiar with your duty stations, and then let's see what this tub can do!"

* * *

"Captain's on the bridge!" someone shouted, and everyone jumped to attention.

The bridge was a bit larger, but still much as she remembered it from three years ago, when she had first laid eyes on that dashing, reckless, immature Lombax. How strange that she would be at the helm once again to chase after him. "As you were," she told the crew as she proceeded to her seat at the head of the raised center section. She disliked the imperial image such an arrangement cast her in, but that was the Navy way. "Computer."

As the screen came to life, an unexpected voice came over the ship's speakers, causing everyone to look up in shock. "Oooh _la la!_ Oh... eez theese the face vish has launched a sousand sheeps? Vat an honour eet eez to hafe you as my commanderr, _mon Capitain_. You may call me... _Raouule_. Or vwat ever ze heck you vant, ma sharcoal masterpiece."

As Sasha buried her face in her hands, fighting back a flush of embarrasment, the crew didn't know quite how to deal with a ship's computer hitting on the Captain. The First Officer didn't help matters my remarking, "Maybe we should all leave and let you two get acquainted - y_eow_," he gasped as she dug her claws into his arm.

"Not funny, Busby," Sasha muttered as the others stifled laughter. "It figures something like this would come up... _Computer,_" she called out to quell the chuckling.

"Oh, vwy so cold, my deliciouz hors d'oeuvre? Do you not like my name--?"

She sat up properly as she replied, "I think _Computer_ will do just fine, thank you. And you may refer to me as _Captain_."

The crew tried to hold back another round of mirth as the computer cleared his throat self-consciously. "Eh... sometimes eet jos takes a while to warm up to my exhuberont personalitie."

"Okay, people, it's time to get down to business," she proclaimed loudly, and it had the desired effect as everyone straightened up and looked professional. Hailing the engineering section, the Chief Engineer appeared on the main screen. "Is the Phoenix ready to sail?"

"Oh, yes ma'am. These engines are chomping at the bit to cut loose." Behind him, the engineer's assistant exclaimed, "Hell yeah! This boat is _so_ gonna fly!"

She had to fight back a smile as the youth reminded her quite a bit of Skidd McMarx. "Very good, Mister Tesla, thank you." Opening a channel to the ship's intercom, she declared, "This is the Captain. All hands prepare for departure to hyperjump point in approximately one hour." She told the helmsman, "Mister Mimo, proceed to the jump point at seventy-five percent power."

"Aye aye, ma'am," he replied, seeming to relish the chance to try the ship out himself. A dim roar reverberated through the vessel as the Thrusterdyne engines came to life, and despite the artificial gravity field damping the inertia, everyone could feel the ship lunging forward.

"Err, madame Capitain," Warhelm called from his station, "I vas just writing opp der ship's computor as a security rizk."

"Oh, now zat ees jost harsh!" _Raoul_ protested.

"All right you too, as you were," Sasha interrupted, rubbing her forehead in dismay. "Helmut, you know the procedures, don't get carried away trying to impress anyone. I want this to be a pleasant voyage. _Do you read me?_" The Security Officer muttered something in assent and she grumbled to herself, "Is it going to be like this all the time?"

In the viewport, the arc of Kerwan's horizon began to recede as the ship accelerated away into deep space. Sasha looked down at the research station where Al had been sitting during the fight against Nefarious, occupied now with one of Number One's underlings, and it put her in a melancholy mood. She missed him, with so many others in the crew reminding her of that goofy but endearing group Qwark had assembled, and he had been very useful.

"Be sure to write." She blinked as the forlorn call from the technologist rang in her ears almost audibly, his last words before she ran off on him, not wanting to give him a chance to ask about coming along. She sighed at the memory of the poor man huddled with the rest of the bridge crew, trying his best not to whimper as the forces of Nefarious invaded her ship, intending to kill everyone, and darn near succeeding if not for the intervention of Ratchet. And then to suffer a near fatal attack at the hands of Ace Hardlight... she couldn't put him in a potentially life threatening situation again. "Not this time, Al," she murmured.

She gazed through the front viewport at the sun blazing in the pitch black sky, much as she had done on her first voyage on the original Phoenix. In spite of the extensive modification, she could tell that the ship was still her old Phoenix at heart, while much more powerful. She gave the cushioned arm rest a squeeze, shivering expectantly at the thought of an adventure to come, and probably unlike anything anyone had faced before. She murmured quietly, "It's so good to be back. Now, come on baby, I need you to give me all you got this mission."

Mister Birdwell noticed her intense mood and thought he could stand to break the ice. "She's a great ship. I just hope the boatyard did their job. We don't _normally_ use a mission as a shakedown cruise, and if we spring a leak out there, it's a long walk to the nearest gas station."

The feloid chuckled, thinking that perhaps having a joker around wasn't such a bad thing after all. "Aren't you and Mister Tesla up to the challenge of keeping this boat running?"

"Oh... yes _ma'am!_" he replied emphatically. "It's just that... you know, stuff happens." Sasha had to admit to herself that, when Ratchet was involved, _stuff_ certainly did happen. He added guardedly, "And... about that privileged information you came across on the Zoni, I hope you're gonna share that with your _executive staff_. I mean, as long as they're not bedtime stories."

"Oh, Busby... you have no idea," she remarked slyly, recalling how the deeply classified files nearly cost her a computer, and Talwyn an entire station. There was one more thing to see about, and she rotated to face the Communications Officer. "Lieutenant Chatterly? I want you to initiate a scan of all transmissions, both military and civilian, that deal with any recent activity by Ratchet."

She blinked at her boss in surprise. "Stuff on Ratchet? Gee, if you want me to do more things like that, this mission's gonna be great!"

"This is _serious_ now, Lola," the Cazar told her sternly. "You can't surf for videos and gossip. He's our only lead, and we have to track him down. Understood?" The officer gave her a sheepish nod and turned to her console. Satisfied that her crew was coming to grips with how she did business, she faced the viewport revealing the wide expanse of the starfield around the Kerwan system, tapping her armrest pensively. "I put out my lines, we're underway... now to see if I can get a nibble on what Ratchet is up to."

* * *

"Why are they having us do calculus so soon!" the boy exclaimed from his bedroom floor, throwing his stylus and laying his head down on his tablet in defeat. "I'm only ten, and that darn teacher is no help..."

"Excuse, please."

The child looked down at his tablet, and superimposed over his homework was the black-cloaked face of a ninja. He fell over backwards with a cry of alarm. "Hey... what's going on!"

"I beg your forgiveness," said the image, "but--"

"I bet you're a virus," the lad interrupted as he set his glasses back in place, beginning to poke through a menu. "I'll just do a clean wipe--"

"No, wait!" the figure protested. "I am an anti-virus virus."

The boy scrunched his brow in perplexion. "Anti-virus _virus?_ That doesn't sound right..." But there was something familiar about this entity, and it finally dawned on him. "Hey, wait a minute... you're that program that Big Al was fussing with, aren't you?"

"So, you know my master! You discern the truth wisely. You may refer to me as--" A gong sounded, and beside the figure sprang up an elegant logo done in an Oriental style. "Mister Ninja!"

The youth blinked at the elaborate introduction. "I wouldn't have guessed. Oh, and my name is Leonard. But what are you doing running around loose?"

"I have been seeking problems to set right. And you say you are having trouble dealing with calculus?"

"Oh, don't remind me," Leonard moaned. "I hate it! And our teacher, Mister Mundulus... all he does is ramble and put the class to sleep."

"Bah, a good instructor does not leave his students without a clue. But I shall humbly assist you to overcome this simple foe. Keep in mind always that complex equations such as this one are still just simple mathematics at the core. If you color code the nested calculations, then it will be a simple matter to find the innermost equations and solve them in order."

Leonard's eyes opened as a veil was lifting from this arcane world, and he grabbed his stylus, beginning to paint the lengthy equation with different colors. "Wow... why didn't Mister Mundulus explain it like this! Uhm, hey, listen... can you come to school with me tomorrow? I need help with my galactic geography homework too."

The little figure bowed humbly. "It would be my pleasure to do so." He concluded this Mister Mundulus needed a lesson in giving lessons...

* * *

Author's notes:

**First Lieutenant Busby Birdwell:** scientist, inventor, builder of the Voyager (let's see who can figure out who this is). While not exactly captain's material yet, he's a very capable First Officer and scientist. However, on this trip he's going to have to brush up on his people skills, as Sasha will be a bit caught up in managing the ship as well as chasing down Ratchet to deal with the day to day crew issues.

**CHC-117, UFS Phoenix II:** the military designation indicates that the new ship is a Combat Heavy Cruiser, the 117th heavy cruiser built for the Solana Navy over the centuries, and is a United Federation Starship. While it's indirectly a part of the Intercluster Alliance, whatever vessels this shadowy bunch sails have their own designation.

I'm sorry this update took so long, but work has been a literal drag. On top of that, I had a couple of birthdays spring up on me, a Japanese festival, and some musician friends wanted me to engineer some recordings of their music, on top of my own. I live such a busy life. Furthermore, the chapter I'd intended to post was too awkward, dealing with the extraneous issues that I'd forgotten to deal with, so I scrambled to make it all a separate chapter. In any case, this also means another entry will be ready to post soon, so stay tuned.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: Fear and rockets**

The radioactive filaments of a solar flare raced outwards, having exploded from a star storm the day before. A planet sailed right into the stream of hot plasma, causing some problems for the technicians monitoring satellite sensors and transmitters. It was the ideal cover for Ratchet as he guided Aphelion down the center of one tendril, the energetic plasma drawn to the planet's poles and erupting in rainbow colors as it shredded the atoms in the upper atmosphere. He didn't have much time to enjoy the sight, nor was he in the mood, as he steeled himself for yet another battle. Cobalia was still an Imperial world, and Tachyon's minions intended to keep it that way.

"I wouldn't use this tactic too often," Aphelion warned him. "I provide excellent shielding, but some radiation does leak through."

Ratchet shrugged. "This is nothing compared to a black hole's event horizon."

"Yes, and you know better than to attempt _that_ again any time soon... _right?_" the ship asked him in a way that wasn't a question.

"Okay, okay, I'll keep an eye on the rad counter," he chuckled as he pulled an Immelman into the planet's polar atmosphere, braking to saner speeds as he headed for a certain Gelatonium plant closer to the equator. Despite the occasionally overbearing motherly tone, it was reassuring to have Aphelion voicing her concern for him. While she was no replacement for Clank, it was good to know he wasn't going into this alone.

The many land and water masses of Cobalia sped past below until they approached the area he had first crashed to the planet in Tachyon's very own star cruiser, and as the mess of viscous swamps spanned to the sunset-painted horizon, the wreck of the cruiser popped up on Aphelion's sensors, causing Ratchet to smile ruefully. "So, you didn't even want to recover it, huh? Are you allergic to losing, by any chance?" As he made for the refinery, he began, "Prepare for--" He almost said _prepare for ejection_ out of habit, drawing a heavy sigh as he looked to the empty seat beside him, where Clank normally sat.

"Yes, Ratchet?" Aphelion prodded him gently.

He gripped the controls, fighting off a burden of loneliness as he swung the starfighter around to return to the site of the wreck. He couldn't afford to be distracted by grim emotions right now. "Uhm... I'm going to hover above a rocky surface and jump out. You take off under low power and orbit the factory. I might need you to provide cover fire."

"Will do, Ratchet," she replied as he parked over an outcropping next to the rusting hulk of the Imperial star cruiser and opened the hatch, dropping to the level surface below. "Be careful," she added over the radio, flashing her landing lights at him in a goodbye. He waved to her, and watched with a tightness in his throat as she rotated in midair and ascended in a shallow climb to keep the engine noise to a minimum. She looked pretty in the sunset... and so far away now...

The feeling of solitude grew intense, as this was Tachyon's domain, enemy territory, and that bug-like monster was still alive somehow, using every opportunity to torment him. It was also where the bizarre adventure began mere months ago that ended up with his friend being stolen from him, though it seemed like an eternity now. Just standing there, he felt exposed, vulnerable in the gathering twilight. Manifesting his OmniWrench, he gripped it tight and dashed off down the only path he was aware of to the Gelatonium plant. "Just hold on, buddy, I'm on my way."

It wasn't without incident, as the little purple creatures and larger centipede-like ones still infested the area, and they didn't have enough sense to leave him alone. He had to kill a few with the wrench, dodging their grotesque attacks and running from the rest as he wanted desperately to get on with his journey to where his friend was imprisoned, groaning, "Oh man... Clank, I wish you were here..."

The little nano-id shadowed the Lombax, and having kept tabs discreetly with his Guardian superself, he paraphrased a verse of scripture he found appropriately reassuring. "I am with you always, and will never leave you nor forsake you."

The swamps of Cobalia were polluted with a unique blend of oily substances, food for a host of micro-organisms. Warmed by subsurface volcanic fields, they produced vast quantities of a gooey muck which was refined into the unusual but highly useful product Gelatonium, essential in everything from machinery hydraulics to the most comfortable hemorrhoid cushions in the universe. But in the swamp, it was nothing but a hideous, smelly mess, and he had to make a few careful jumps across several gaps in the path to avoid it.

Ratchet made his way to the isolated tower structure on the way to the plant, but rising to the top and standing at the edge of the platform, he moaned at the gulf between it and a finger of dry land, filled with swampy mire. With Clank, it was easy to cross safely, but there was no way he could manage that now. With a groan of resignation, he mumbled, "Please... _please_ don't be messy." Straining his instincts, he chose a spot that looked safest and cleanest, and jumped.

Unfortunately it wasn't; his helmet and backside struck the bottom, thankfully not too hard, but the mess of algae and fetid swampy goo went up his nose and he choked. Coughing and thrashing, he fought to get out of the stinking, bubbling quagmire, hauling himself up the rocky outcropping to the sanctuary of dry land, gasping and cursing in disgust. The poor nano-id could only watch regretfully as his friend suffered, caking himself with dust.

Ratchet coughed and snorted out what he could, but despite rinsing his mouth with a swig of liquor, he couldn't rid himself of that nasty, oily tang. And if that wasn't bad enough, after dousing himself to wash some of it away, he noticed black leeches clinging to his tail. "I don't believe this... how can _anything_ live in that mess!" Drawing forth his Lightning Ravager, he touched the charged whip to the parasites, jumping as some of the current surged through to him, making his sticky fur snap erect for an instant. Thank heaven, they didn't seem to be on his earflaps! He complained to himself, "Crap... can it get any worse?" Then he growled as the insectoid creatures began to approach him once more, driven by their simple predatory instincts. Raising his whip, he snarled, "Damn it, you really don't want to mess with me!" Miraculously, that deterred most of them, and they slunk off to cower in nooks in the volcanic rock. The whip made short work of the rest.

Finally, through a gap in the rocky outcroppings, he saw the Gelatonium plant, as well as the Enforcers guarding it. Waiting until nightfall would probably made no difference, as the Drophyd troops patrolling the walkways around it likely had good vision enhancers thanks to pilfered Lombax technology. And if not, the floodlights banishing the gloom around the area would solve that. Checking his helmet to make sure the mike was clear and wiping the visor off in the grass, he put it back on, saying quietly as he crept towards the cover of some crates, "Aphelion? I'm at the edge of the factory area. The place is full of innocent worker bots, so hold off until I give the word."

"Copy that, Ratchet. Standing by." He smiled at the eagerness in her electronic voice, as she seemed quite happy to be fighting once more those _dreadful, dreadful, dreadful, dreadful, dreadful little creatures._

Edging up to the furthest walkway ramp and hugging himself to a stack of crates, he peered around the edge, hissing to get a robot's attention. It blinked, floating near to see what the matter was. Ratchet produced a Fusion Bomb, hefting it for emphasis, and motioning for it to seek cover. The bot's reaction was more than he expected, as it gave a little electronic squeal, rushing back to inform one of his fellows. There was a chain reaction as the evening air laced with the blittering of alarmed robot chatter, and they scurried in swarms for the shelter of armored warehouses, embedded in the rocky hillsides. Along with that, the Grummels folded in on themselves.

Ratchet groaned, shaking his head as even a snoozing Drophyd would probably notice that kind of a commotion, and sure enough, the Enforcers produced shields and began to fan out over the cargo area. "Thanks a _lot_, guys, for being so discreet," he grumbled, then in his mike, he told Aphelion, "Okay, hit 'em hard, two or three passes with your cannons."

He had to laugh as she retorted, "Wha... is that _all_? Why do you get to have all the fun!" Then from behind the building and the sheltering hills came the glorious sound of the Lombax starfighter diving in for a strafing run, and the weird guttural voices of the Drophyds as they tried to sort out what was going on. They didn't have much chance, as bolts of energy blasted through their ranks, the rampways sparking from the scorching energies they absorbed. A few of them had some kind of anti-aircraft weapons they were leveling at her shadowy silhouette as she roared past to position for another run, but they didn't get a chance for so much as a lock-on as Ratchet's bomb exploded in their midst, sending several of their broken mechanical bodies flying into the swamp water below the walkways.

That got their attention and word spread quickly of the Lombax ambushing them from the edge of the cargo area. He had to duck as the crates began to shatter from the enemy fire pounding his position, but he felt a surge of confidence as the starfighter swooped down once more to rake through the ranks of black armored fish with blaster fire. It felt damned good to be taking the fight to the enemy once more. He was about to cover for Aphelion when a shot just grazed his shoulder from above. Gasping from the sharp pain, he realized they must have snipers on the gyro towers. Sorting through his arsenal, he produced an old friend he hadn't used for a few years, a trusty Heavy Lancer. When he caught the sound of Aphelion winging about for her third attack, he lunged to his feet, spotting a sniper huddled behind the shaft of the tower. With just a few shots, the Drophyd's armor shattered and he toppled to the swampy bay underneath. Seeing two more, it was just as easy to take them out, as the starfighter had their full attention.

While the Drophyds weren't too bright, they weren't stupid either, and they were fed up with being decimated from two sides. Huddled behind crates and processing machinery, he overheard one of them gibbering something, unable to get a clear shot on them as they had given up on trying to take down the starfighter. But then he saw why as a squad of Flyers emerged from bays within the factory, and he shouted frantically to Aphelion, "Beat it and fly low!"

"What?! Why - _oh bloody hell_," she blurted out as she had to pull some Ratchet-style maneuvers to avoid their beam and missile fire. Yelping as one beam caught her wing, she told him as she dove behind the cover of the surrounding hills, "I'm not leaving you like this!"

"Stay away! That's an order!" he shouted as he fired on the hovering Drophyds, his blasts tearing into the craft, pieces flying off. But now that the aerial threat was dealt with, they all regrouped and began firing back in earnest, and he had to cower behind the crates as they were blown open, their contents scattering across the walkways. His heart sank as he knew they were slowly disintegrating away. This wasn't going well at all, and he couldn't resort to a heavy weapon like the RYNO, as it would obliterate everything and everyone. He cried, lying, "I'm on top of things!" He heard a missile screaming at him and made a mad dash for a stack of cargo to the rear, just as the explosion sent him and the last of his cover flying.

As he scrambled behind the crates, his body stinging from shock and shrapnel, Aphelion yelled at him, "It bloody well doesn't sound like it! Hold on... make for cover and I'll bomb the factory."

"No!" he cried as he drew forth the Raptor, lunging to his feet to send several missiles at the Flyers. "There are innocent workers in there, and the Grummels!" That gave him a moment's peace as the aerial units bumped into each other to avoid the missiles, and the troops wisely dove for cover. He had to duck himself as the launcher reloaded, knowing it would take a few rounds of this to destroy them. He began to fire another salvo but had to drop back down as the Drophyds took advantage, pounding his shield of crates once more.

"Ratchet, you idiot! This is what you get for going it alone!" she exclaimed angrily. "Oh, what to do, what to do...?"

The nano-id was fairly quivering in fear, shouting in hopes of being perceived, "Ratchet! You must either find a way to destroy them all yourself, or retreat! They are drawing too close for Aphelion to safely attack them!"

He was gratified that, by the sound of her engines, the starfighter was circling behind the factory, but now he had to figure out something fast, or he was finished one way or the other. Sneaking a quick peek over the crates and just avoiding a shot to his helmet, he saw to his alarm that they were all much too close for comfort. Lobbing a Fusion Bomb over his shoulder, he heard the foot soldiers dive for cover, some unsuccessfully, but the Flyers were undaunted. Managing to get off a few Raptor rounds, he managed to take a Flyer down, but then the Enforcers unleashed a hail of covering blaster fire. "This is no good... they're supporting each other!" He looked to the narrow entrance he'd come through to start with, knowing that beyond it was a swampy dead end, but right now he didn't have much choice. Throwing out a Mega-turret and a few Plasma Stalkers, he caught the briefest hint of break in their firing and scrambled as fast as he could for that gap in the rock face. Dodging and weaving, he winced as uncomfortably close blaster shots kicked up dirt and rock all around him.

And then, just as he made the gap, he heard Aphelion swooping down on them like the Angel of Death, calling, "Ratchet! Duck!" He knew what was coming, and with a cry, he sprinted to the end of the path, diving into the swamp muck just as the mine she dropped exploded with a brilliant flash, the deafening blast ringing in his ears as he sank into the mire. The nano-id gasped anxiously, "Oh, my word... Ratchet? _Ratchet!_"

_Was that... Clank's voice?_

His body was numb from the shock, but fortunately the stinking mess all around him kept him from dazing out, and he crawled from the morass, the fetid slime clinging to him as he hauled himself to the firm, dry ground. Coughing and shaking the dust-caked ooze from him, he mumbled thickly as he trudged forward, "I'm really... _seriously_ getting sick of this." He caught a movement through his muck coated visor, wiping it to find himself facing a lone stunned looking Enforcer. Lifting an ooze-dripping finger, he aimed it at the fearful Drophyd like a death ray, holding it for a long, tense moment, and finally growling, "Scram." The poor wretch gave a blubbering fishy wail as he fled, the nano-id enjoying a good chuckle. Ratchet cast his gaze around him as he came to his senses a bit more, wondering at the hint of Clank's presence. 'Is he... still here, helping me? I wish I knew for sure...'

As he shuffled forward, the dull roar of Aphelion's engines came to him, the starfighter lowering herself to hover before him as he wearily approached. She said to him brightly, "There you go, Ratchet. All Drophyds are dealt with. The factory grounds are now yours."

Spitting some lingering goo, he muttered irritably as he poked at the leeches on his tail with the electric whip, "A little... _warning_ next time?" Of course every touch had him jerking, his gummy hair snapping briefly erect.

She giggled, "Oh, you poor thing. Well, take a rest, and _remember_ this little incident the next time you decide to invade an enemy stronghold... _alone_. You can't bash your way through every fight, I hope you finally realize. You'll have to start developing some strategies involving me in _more_ than a pass or two."

"She is right, you know," the ghostly bot remarked, his arms folded.

He was decidedly not in the mood to be lectured by her, and was about to say so when he caught sight of a reflection between her split nose. It seemed that some kind of lens was aimed at him. Gasping in dismay, he asked, "Are you _recording this?_"

"Why... I don't know what you mean," she replied with a complete lack of innocence, causing nano-Clank to laugh even harder.

He pointed to the debris cluttered landing area, grumbling, "You... there... _park_." It seemed she was still giggling like a schoolgirl with fresh gossip as he clomped tiredly around the shallow but wide mine crater and piles of damaged goods from hundreds of cargo crates, ignoring the bewildered stares of dozens of robots as they emerged in the mostly silent aftermath. "Please tell me she didn't blast the water tanks... _please_ tell me she didn't blast the water tanks..."

Luckily, she hadn't, and being a warm evening, he took a great deal of pleasure as he ran a shower. It was placed there for workers who were too careless around the edge of the walkways, and fortunately there was a solution which cut the sludge like magic. After being dunked in the stinking gooey mess _twice_, being wet was a pleasure in comparison. He did quite a bit of gargling, and even ran a little water up his nose to clear it out. That was a mistake, but after coughing and sneezing it up, he did find a slight relief from the smell, though it was going to take a while to fade. Then came the painful ordeal of removing the bits of shrapnel from his hide, grumbling at himself for letting the Drophyds get the better of him like that, scowling at the horde of robots gawking at all this from a distant circle.

At last, feeling slightly better about his ordeal in spite of ringing ears and a throbbing headache, and still followed by the halo of curious and hopefully grateful worker bots, he came up to the Grummel Device vendor who popped right out of his protective armored shell. Yelling much too loud for comfort, the weird creature exclaimed, "WOW, SLICK! THAT WAS ONE HELL OF A FIREWORKS SHOW!"

Waving him down, he told the alien, "Hey... thanks, but drop the decibel count a little, please? I'm not quite over that battle."

Still too loudly, the Grummel barked out, "Oh, yeah! Sorry about that. But while ya mention it... I got a little somethin' to return the favor here."

Ratchet blinked, taking a step back as it looked like the portly alien drew forth a weapon, aiming it at him. He just managed to get out, "Hey, what--?" Abruptly, electricity ran all through him, like his Lightning Ravager, stunning and freezing him in place. The anxious thought that the Grummels had betrayed him was unavoidable as he endured the nerve-jangling pain. When it finally ended and he fell to his knees, he wasted no time to manifest his wrench, jumping to his feet as he shook off the after-effects of the attack, threatening the creature angrily as he glanced around. "What the hell are you doing!"

Cringing back as far as the plump alien could, he cried, "Hey! Easy there! These swamps are full o' micro-organisms, and some of 'em are pretty nasty. That charge is tuned to a frequency which destroys the little monsters, while leaving the cells of your body alone. It's just as effective as drugs, but no side effects!"

"No side effects..." he grumbled under his breath as he put away his wrench, clenching his hands to ease the still-tingling nerves. He wondered if the little clone had made the dubious contraption himself. "Okay... sorry I overreacted, but the last few days have been pretty rough."

"Woah... if this is any indication, ya got my sympathy." The plump alien rubbed his hands together as his compassion gave way to an emotion much dearer to his heart. "Anyways, why don't we do somethin' to brighten the mood, and do a little business? That always cheers me right up!"

"You're all heart," Ratchet remarked through a lopsided smile. "But... before we do that..." He turned around, asking sheepishly, "Could you... pull the last of this shrapnel from my backside? I can't get a few pieces."

The Grummel muttered distastefully, "Eww... I guess, but this little indignity is gonna cost ya, hot shot." He added in a squeamish voice as he produced some long tweezers, "I really should have my brother do this. He's better at it and... I hate the sight o' blood..."

Ratchet cringed at the thought of that strange armor maker poking around him from behind, glancing over to see the odd being giving him a wave and a smile which had his teeth on edge. The Grummel never passed up an opportunity to invite him over for a fitting in that effeminate voice of his, and the way the pudgy alien eyed him sometimes made his stomach knot. He'd never done anything weird before, but he seemed to be enjoying the taunts cast at him just a bit _too_ much lately. "No, that's okay - _easy!_"

Finally, the last bit was removed, and Ratchet drew a sigh of relief, as did the Grummel. Putting away his long tweezers, he confessed, "Man, I'm glad that's over with. Anyway, what can I do for - _yeow!_" He sounded pained as Ratchet set something wrapped in a cloth down before him, giving the sound of broken glass. The gleam of gold in the floodlights under the cloth was hard to miss, so he knew what it was before Ratchet uncovered the smashed Groovitron. "Holy faq! Uhh, I mean... sorry about that. But... what the hell didja do to it! Don't tell me you party _that_ hard!"

The Lombax rolled his eyes as he muttered dryly, "_No_... evidently this thing isn't mech-proof. Can you fix or replace it?"

The Grummel blinked at it as if this was the first time he'd dealt with this situation. "Uhh... I dunno, slick, that's some... proprietary stuff there. Ya can't just grab one at the local Par-tay Shack." He consulted his inventory screen in a way that showed he knew the answer already. "And... there ain't exactly a big demand for somethin' this expensive... looks like I'm out."

"Well... can you get it fixed?" Ratchet asked insistently.

From the look on the Grummel's face, he was beginning to wonder if he had the _only_ Golden Groovitron in the universe. "Well... I dunno! See... one never broke before..." He stopped as Ratchet stuck his Galactic Express in the card slot, then gasped in shock at the amount the Lombax transferred. "Woah, hey, wait! _Two million bolts?!_ That's--!"

"I know, that's the sale price. Just get me a new one, or fix this one, will ya? Send me a message when you can." It was hard to keep the disappointment from his voice as he turned away, beginning to wander towards his ship.

The Grummel was dumbfounded at all this, wincing at the sight of the Lombax's drooping ears and tail. He must really be crushed. "Hey, hold up, champ!" As Ratchet turned to see what the dealer had in mind, he blinked as a familiar blue light enveloped him. It was Nanotech, and he smiled at the heady rush of delight the magical product gave him when it took effect, his wounds melting away. The Grummel beamed at him, declaring, "On the house. Hey, you got a Nano-pack, right?"

Ratchet shook his head at how much he'd been loosing track of things as he turned back. "Yes... damn it, and I've been forgetting to recharge it too. How much?"

He enjoyed a brief bit of that euphoria again as a sphere of blue light sank into his armor, though it was replaced with surprise when the vendor answered, "Forget it, you deserve it."

Ratchet didn't know quite what to say, murmuring, "Hey... I have plenty of money."

"We do too, believe me." Leaning over, he guarded his voice with one hand. "We give a discount to the locals, but gouge Tachyon's boys like crazy." As Ratchet chuckled, he continued as he sat back up, "We could retire tomorrow, but that would bore us stupid. We need guys like you to come around every so often to liven things up!"

"I'll see what I can manage." Ratchet was glad to have an opportunity to laugh again, then took the Grummel's flabby hand, shaking it with a bittersweet gleam in his eye. "And listen... thanks, for everything."

He was amused at how flustered the alien was as he tried to find something to say. "Aww, hey... I'm just doin' a day's work, that's all." As Ratchet nodded and turned to go, the dealer blurted out after him, "Hey, how about some Confusler Gas? Or Leech Bombs! No charge!"

"Nah, I'm good," Ratchet said over his shoulder with a smile. "I just need to top off some ammo."

"So... where ya headed, that ya need all this firepower?" The Grummel was puzzled over his mood, as the Lombax had never looked so down.

Ratchet's feet felt heavier as he replied somberly, "I... have to leave the universe somehow... and rescue a friend."

The vendor blinked in astonishment, mumbling, "Happy trails." Swinging his computer around, he struggled to make a trans-galactic call, grumbling, "Damn solar storm... come on, this guy really needs a hand." He frowned as he got a weak connection, but only good enough for a message.

"_You have reached the number of Slim Cognito, known universe wide as the master of modification, the duke of decription, and the king of just about everything else._"

"Yeah yeah, cummon cummon," snapped the Grummel, hoping for a new message.

"_Unfortunately, I cannot be reached at my new address in Zordoom Prison on planet Viceron. However, please leave a message, and I'll be sure to get back wit' ya. In a century or two. If I'm lucky._"

The vendor shut the call down in disgust. "Dammit Slim, _why_ didja have to go fool around with those kids! I really need the king of everything else right now." He flipped through a directory, muttering, "Maybe Big Al or his bruthah can help me out in a pinch... wonder what Metropolis local time is..."

The armorer waved, calling to Ratchet in that sybillant voice of his, "Why not come over and get fitted for that Trillium armor you've been _lusting_ after? You know you want to. It's the ultimate in both safety _and_ comfort, as it caresses those shapely muscles like a glove. And you'll never have to deal with shrapnel up your rumpus again!"

Ratchet shivered at the way he put that, and in _that_ tone of voice, waving back amiably. "No, that's okay... I'm claustrophobic." Which was actually rather true, after his days locked in perpetual combat in Gleeman Vox's DreadZone, and having to endure being sealed into that all encompassing suit. He still had bad dreams about that on occasion.

"Suit yourself," the armorer called back, giggling at his own pun. "But remember, you can reach out to me _any_ time you want."

Ratchet grit his teeth through a smile and hurried to the arms vendor, glad for an excuse to ignore the weird alien. The last Grummel said to him cheerfully as always, "Heya, chief. That was some light show! Looks like those upgrades came in really handy."

"Yeah, they did..." he began, then it hit him that he was plenty rich, and had more than enough Raritanium. Sorting through his Manifestor, he continued, "You know, while we're on the subject, just fully upgrade everything."

The dealer blinked in shock as weapons began appearing in a pile before him. "Woah! Hey, boss, slow down! Some o' this stuff I can't handle, but the rest... heck, if you got the crystals 'n the bolts, it's as good as done." He swore soundly as Ratchet set two large bags filled with Raritanium before him. "Hot damn, son! You win the lottery or somethin'?!"

"Something like that," he replied with a lopsided smile. "How long?"

"Hold on, champ, lemme get my breath!" After a moments pause and some muttered estimation, the vendor told him, "I think... fifteen minutes tops. I'll just take one bag right now, that might be plenty!"

Ratchet chuckled, leaning against the side of a warehouse entrance to wait. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Hey, the pleasure's all mine, chief. It's great doin' business with such an outstanding customer!" the dealer replied as weapons began vanishing from the pile, followed by a bag of crystals. "Man... I haven't seen so much ar-tee at once since... _holy sh--!_"

Ratchet jumped as the metallic shell housing the Grummel slammed shut, and he caught the sounds of the others closing in on themselves likewise as the ring of worker bots began to scatter. Confusion flooded his mind. "What the hell--?"

Just as he began to spin around, rocks exploded beside his head from some kind of weapon fire, bits of it stinging his earflaps and rattling against his helmet. Instinctively he dropped to the ground, covering his head, but he uncurled as a familiar voice rang deep into every corner of his being, causing his damp fur to stand on end.

"I see you've been a busy boy. And now, you hope to defeat me by upgrading your arsenal. But what good is such a pile of weaponry when you can't even sense someone walking up behind you as openly as you please!"

Rising slowly to his hands and knees, he gaped at the figure behind him in shock. "Y..._you?_"

The nano-id put his metallic hands to his mouth as he came to Ratchet's side, gasping in bewilderment, "Oh, my heavens..."

A weapon was held tightly with deadly intent, aimed for his head, but he had seen it all before. The dark cloaked figure and light body armor, the electronically altered voice... it was all just as he remembered it. And that figure... now that he knew it, there was no way a costume could hide it, topped with those piercing green eyes. Finally the scent, penetrating his senses dulled from swamp mire and combat. There was no mistaking it.

It was Angela. But this wasn't the lovestruck woman who pined for him... she seemed ready to kill. But why!

"Who else would it be, you mindless pawn!" she growled. "I could have dealt with you at my leisure with your back turned to me, but that would have been too easy. Besides, I wanted to see your face as I have you at my mercy! Now, move away from your weapons! _Slowly._"

His mind spun in confusion. The pistol was a Stiletto, but it looked to have been heavily upgraded to something formidable. And her attitude... this wasn't the sound of a woman cheated out of hitching a ride with him. Maybe she was paying him back for that, but everything from the tone of her voice to her stance, ready to fight in earnest, was much _too_ threatening. Aphelion rotated around at the landing pad a short distance back, declaring, "Of all the cheek! Should I blast them?"

Ratchet put his hand up as he rose slowly to his feet, edging away from his pile of gear. "No! Just stay out of this." As she began to object, he told her forcefully, "That's an _order_, Aphelion. I mean it this time... stay put."

Angela tightened her grip on the Stiletto nervously. "Don't think your ship can help you now! This is going to be settled _mano a mano_."

Whatever was going on, he had to make her see reason, beginning gently, "Angela, listen. I'm sorry what happened back on Endako, but..."

His voice trailed to silence as she gasped, taking a step backward. "H... how did you know my..." Then she shook her head, blurting out, "I mean... don't call me that name again! It's... insulting! My name is... Larry! Got that?!"

It was Ratchet's turn to shake his head in bewilderment, ignoring a throb from his lingering headache. Something was very wrong. "_What?_ Uhh... listen, can we calm down here, and get to the bottom of this peacefully?"

"_Angela?_" Aphelion said in bewilderment. "What the devil...?"

The nano-id blinked as something occurred to him, hoping to grab his friend's attention. "Of course! Ratchet, listen! This is obviously a ploy by--"

"Silence!" Angela exclaimed, aiming the pistol for the Lombax's head with both hands. "I'm not going to fall for your tricks! I have the upper hand, so you are going to remain silent while you listen to me gloat! I haven't had a chance to gloat yet!"

Whether from nano-Clank's cut short remark or from his own mind working, something came to him and he put his hand out. "Wait! Angela, listen... don't you remember me at _all?_"

"Of course I do, you imbecile, and I've had enough of--!" She jerked her head again, clenching the Stiletto tighter. "But... _stop calling me that name!_ You don't listen very well, obviously! It's, uhh... Larry! _Got it?_"

He nodded, thinking frantically for a way to reason with her and ferret out the truth. "Okay, okay... but, talk to me, alright? Something happened to you, didn't it? Did Tachyon send you here?"

Her threatening stance melted away and the pistol lowered as she struggled with the revelations Ratchet lay on her. "How... do you know all this?"

"Because..." he began but fell silent, his jaw dropping and eyes gaping in alarm. He was frozen, screaming her name, as she was about to die.

Angela's senses told her Ratchet wasn't faking, whirling around with a shriek as a huge living horror roared up behind her, rows of razor sharp metallic teeth opened wide to slice her body to a bloody pulp. She stumbled backwards, dropping her weapon as she fell to the ground in shock, and all she could do was lie there and watch, petrified with terror as the Leviathan descended to seize her in those cruel metal jaws.

She covered her head as several blasts of energy burst against its face, the Leviathan jerking back with a roar of outrage and pain. Ratchet jumped over her, yelling and cursing at the top of his lungs as he held the trigger down on that Lancer. He was mere cubits away from it, spraying the monster until it could take no more, and whirled around to slink off through the breach in the rocky hill, back to the dark lair it claimed.

Both of them quaking and panting from shock, Ratchet had the presence of mind to set up a Mega-turret inside the breach, in case the Leviathan had second thoughts of revenge. He couldn't remember grabbing the weapons, but everything had happened so fast, it had been an instinct driven blur. He turned to Angela, gasping, "Oh, crap... hey, are you all--?"

He was stunned by a blow to the chin, pain blooming fresh in his head as he recovered to find the Secsauri girl looking frantically for her gun, and spotting it a few paces off in the grass. As she lunged for it, she was knocked to the ground as Ratchet jumped on her with a cry. She fought to get away, but he was determined to stop her, managing to grapple her arms to her side. She growled in that pitch-shifted voice, "Damn you... let go of me!"

He rolled her over until they were facing, holding on with all his might as he lay on top of her. "Angela! Damn it girl, stop! I just saved your life! Don't you trust me?"

"Don't give me that... you were just saving your own hide! Now get off of me! _And stop calling me that!_ I told you, I'm--!" She gave a startled gasp as he grabbed her mask in his teeth out of frustration and jerked it off. She blinked up at him as he whipped it into the grass, looking shocked and suspicious, and as lovely as ever. "Hey... that's not fair!"

"That's more like it..." he panted as he caught his breath, enjoying the musical sound of her natural voice and the warmth of her body in his grasp, even if she wasn't being too pleasant just then. "I almost forgot how pretty you looked... and damn... it figures it would take something like this... to get so close to you..."

She blinked up at him in perplexion, as everything he said and did conflicted with her memories of him, but then her suspicions overcame her again and she began ramming her head against his. "Lemme go, you... sex fiend! And you stink! What the hell did you do... swim in that swamp?!"

"Hey - _OW!_" he cried, trying to protect his face with his helmet. "Angela, stop it! Or we'll both end up with nosebleeds!" He was disheartened as she relented but glared up at him suspiciously, and he wondered how he could get through to her. "Now listen... I'll let you go, if you _promise_ not to run off, and listen to me. Please. All right?"

She mulled this over, clearly unsure about the offer, and blinking at the sting of that helmet against her head. "No tricks?"

"No tricks," he told her solemnly, "I promise."

She gazed into his eyes uncertainly for a time, but finally gave a little nod. Gradually, he began to ease his grip on her, and as he feared, she tried to burst out of his embrace and get hold of her pistol. But he had thought ahead, throwing himself over, grabbing it and rolling to his feet to train it on her. She threw her hands down in disgust, exclaiming, "Well, faq!"

"Angela..." he practically moaned in disappointment, "come on... you promised."

"I... didn't say anything..." she murmured, her eyes locked on the Stiletto and her body tensed, ready to fight or run at the slightest opening. With a sigh of resignation, he stood up straight and tossed the pistol to her. She stared at it in disbelief, not understanding the act, mumbling, "What... why...?"

He gave her a shrug. Angela wasn't a villain, and he was counting on that sweet girl he knew coming to life again. "I know, you don't trust me, but one of us has to make a first move. _Now_ will you talk to me?"

She was clearly thinking of using the Stiletto to turn the tables, but something about his sincerity touched her, and she holstered the weapon. "Okay, mister nice guy... so why are you working for that fiend, Fizzwidget? And how did you know who I was!"

Ratchet groaned, as he was hoping she wasn't going to say that. "Oh, great... Tachyon gave you amnesia. I was afraid of that."

Her eyes opened wide and she exclaimed, "Hold it... just a _flocking_ minute here! I'm not doing all the talking. _You_ have to give me some answers too. Now how the hell do you know all this!"

He smiled at her colorful language, as she always had a tendency to use obscenities when she was rattled, but at least now she was open to him. "Angela, listen... you don't remember because you have amnesia, and it's a long, crazy story, but you convinced me that Fizzwidget wasn't on the level. We ended up working together to stop him before Megacorp released the Protopets galaxy wide. And it wasn't Fizzwidget at all; it was Captain Qwark impersonating him."

She blinked in surprise. "That... green weirdo from Solana?" He nodded to her, and she continued thoughtfully, "Well... that would explain Mister Fizzwidget's erratic behavior, but... hold on, they aren't even the same size!"

Ratchet shrugged to her. "I know, he must've... had some crash course in high level disguise or something, but it was him. He was using the crisis to restore his reputation in some crazy scheme. But we stopped him, together, found the real Fizzwidget, and everything turned out fine. Except that we..." His voice trailed to silence as he realized it might not be a good idea to reveal everything just yet. When she prodded him curiously, he went on, "Oh uh, we just... went our separate ways, and... none of this is ringing any bells, is it?"

"Not a ding," she replied, confirming what was in her expression. "And I hope you know, this all sounds like a load of..." But then she blinked as something struck her, though not what Ratchet was hoping. "Wait, you talk like this happened... how much time has passed?"

He replied earnestly, "Angela, this all happened _five years_ ago."

"_Five--?_" she blurted out, checking her chronometer. She looked up with a stunned expression, saying in a feeble voice, "But... that's not possible..."

He shook his head with a rueful sigh. "Oh, Angela... what did he _do_ to you?"

She frowned at him, finally beginning to grow comfortable with the Lombax. "Who?"

"Tachyon. He brought you here, didn't he?"

She put her hands up. "Okay, hold it... _how_ do you know all this? I wasn't even in the same _galaxy!_"

He lifted his hands in frustration at his inability to straighten this all out. "That's another long story, but we fought for control of a Lombax device. He finally got hold of it, but in one last battle, he lost, and I thought the device killed him, but it didn't. He's in some weird state right now with some strange powers, and he's driving me crazy, evidently grabbing people I fought in the past and pitting us against each other. First Doctor Nefarious, then you. He was no doubt hoping that we'd at least injure each other... probably worse. And if I did, I... I'd never forgive myself..." he finished quietly.

He lost himself in her gaze as their eyes locked, and her large, shining jewels were hypnotic. Moments passed, and when Angela realized what was going on, she blinked, looking down in embarrassment. "Oh, uhm... so... you are rather... fond of me?"

"I lo-_uhh_..." he began, catching himself before he uttered something that wasn't too prudent, considering the situation. But his feelings were pretty clear, he knew, so he told her, "I do... think very much of you... yeah."

"Oh, my..." she murmured, touching her cheek with a gloved hand as she looked aside. "I... don't know what to make of all this. It's so... unreal..." Briefly turning her gaze back to him, she asked timidly, "So... what became of my life?"

He gave her a warm smile as he replied, "You did great. You evidently got a degree in genetics because you have the title of doctor now, and you're the head of the department in Megacorp. The Protopets were a big success, and you're working on even more. I'm really proud of you." He had to chuckle as she seemed to almost melt after that little revelation. "Listen... that amnesia should be temporary. If not, Megacorp should be able to unlock your memories. And if they can't, give a call to Al's Robo Shack in the Solana Galaxy to help out. He hasn't met a challenge yet he couldn't beat."

She was silent for a while, sneaking little glimpses of him, still a bit too shy to face him. "I just... don't know what to make of all this... it's like being thrown into a whole new life with y--" She coughed in embarrassment as she nearly let something slip herself. "Uhm... anyway... I seem to be stranded. Tachyon just... dumped me right over here. I don't suppose... you could give me a lift?" She gave him a sideways look with the slightest glimmer in it.

Ratchet's stomach lurched as he wanted to in the worst way, but he knew they would probably become entangled in the course of things, and beyond that, there would be no way to undo what came after. And he couldn't bear the thought of dragging her into the dangers he was sure to face. He tried to tell her offhandedly, "I... have a better idea. Hold on."

She watched curiously as he removed his helmet, going to his ship and rummaging around for something in the cockpit. Drawing near, she blinked in surprise as he emerged, lugging a hemisphere of black metal about as big as he was. She told him with a chuckle, "I know you Lombaxes are known for your amazing contraptions, but what the _hell_ is that?"

He gave her a thin smile, wondering what she would make of this. "It's what Tachyon was fighting over. It's called a Dimensionator. It opens portals to other worlds for instantaneous travel."

She clenched her teeth as she gazed at it in trepidation, having an idea what was coming next. "Oh, uhh... isn't that the device that did Tachyon _in?_"

Ratchet bore a sheepish grin as he began to put the device on. "Yeah... but Tachyon was abusing it. It's perfectly safe." Abruptly, the dream warning from the Cragmite played out in his mind much too clearly:

_'How can you hope to understand the mystery of the Dimensionator, or it's purpose? Or the consequences, if used improperly?'_

He shook it off as he tightened the chinstrap, giving her a reassuring smile, which didn't bolster her confidence. "You mean to say that... the awesome Lombax device which you insist will get me back home is a big metal... _hat?_"

He burst out laughing at that, admitting, "You know, that's practically what I said when I first learned about it, but, trust me. It's what I used to get myself and Clank back home."

She bowed a little so she could see his face. She wished that it had occurred to her to study his face without the helmet on. He was really quite a handsome feloid, and she wanted to remember that. She grimaced as he yanked on the pull rope, starting it up with a rattle like a large chainsaw motor, flinching away as it grew, sprouting a dozen antenna, one curiously impaling a... _teddy bear?_ "Are you _sure_ I couldn't just hitch a ride? I have money!"

He closed his eyes, wanting so very much to give in to temptation, but he knew he would regret it. His head was beginning to throb again from all the abuse he'd suffered today, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart. "Angela... you don't know how bad I'd love to, but... I'm in the middle of a pretty dangerous mess with Tachyon, and something else besides, and I really don't want you getting mixed up in that."

"Oh..." she murmured quietly, watching as he concentrated, her mind beginning to swim with conflicting thoughts. 'He did risk his life for me... he's trying to protect me even now... he has _feelings_ for me," she thought, and gazing at the mysterious, handsome Lombax, bearing the load of that huge device, struggling with emotions of his own, she suddenly didn't want to leave him. She had to stall for time, and then noticed a conspicuous absence. "Hey, where's Clank? I thought you and that tin can were inseparable."

He winced at the insensitive way she'd put that, but he knew she wouldn't speak like that normally. "That's... the other thing I was talking about."

"Oh..." she murmured, looking down, but then the meaning of that struck her. "Ratchet, wait... you're going into all that _alone?_"

He closed his eyes again, in danger of changing his mind... he had to make this quick. He called sternly, "Dimensionator!"

She grew anxious, wanting desperately to stay with him. "Ratchet, hold on! I can help you!_ Please _don't push me away!"

He did his best to shut her out, but couldn't, forcing himself to say, "Open a portal to where Angela just came from!"

She jumped back as energy like electrical bolts arced between the antenna, joining together, and then with a loud crack, it shot to a point in the air, and from it sprang a black disc ringed with energy. Her heart twisted, every instinct telling her to run, but she knew that she had to reason with him or it would be worthless, and one way or the other, she would be going back. Then she noticed what was revealed on the other side of the portal, her mind wrestling with what she saw beyond. "Ratchet... wait, you said it was five years later! Something's not right... damn it, _listen_ to me!"

He shouted over her, "And make her fall unconscious temporarily, and think all this was a dream!"

Her eyes opened in alarm, and she cried, "No! Ratchet... _plea_..." He gasped as she wilted, falling to the ground almost lifelessly. He couldn't catch her, as the Dimensionator was too cumbersome. Swearing under his breath, he removed it as fast as he could, falling to her side and gathering her to him. His chest tightened at the sensation of her form in his arms, as not only was his desire for her burning in his heart, her limp form felt unnervingly like a corpse. He had to watch her bosom rise and fall slightly a few times just to confirm that she was still alive, and checked her for injuries. Resting his cheek against hers, he stroked her plume softly, murmuring, "Angela... please, understand... and please, forgive me. It really hurts me to abandon you like this, like you wouldn't believe." Drawing back to gaze at her sleeping form one last time, he kissed her softly, drawing her breath into his lungs, as if to take something of her essence with him. And then, forcing himself on, he hefted her body in his arms and bore her across that mysterious threshold to her world.

It wasn't easy, not only because he wanted fiercely to keep her with him, but because she was a good cubit taller than he was. Still, he managed to lay her gently in the sand under the blazing sun and lift himself from her, taking a step back, though it felt that his feet were set in concrete. It was hard, so incredibly hard to leave her, but he knew he had to, or there would be problems, bad ones. She was so beautiful though, lying there in the sand...

And then the revelation struck him with such force, he nearly choked.

_SAND?!_

He looked around wildly, but the city he thought would be there was nowhere to be seen. Nor was it the arctic wastes of her homeworld of Grelbin. Instead, from horizon to horizon stretched endless, wind driven, hot desert dunes. In the distance, over a nagging alarm from his chronometer which he slapped silent, he could hear the buzzing of large sand wasps, and in a rise some ways off, he made out the cube of an abandoned supply crate. He had been there before, five years ago. "It... can't be... _Tabora?_" he gasped. Casting about nervously, he wondered, "What the hell is going on?"

He fell to her side, mentally kicking himself. She had been trying to get his attention, but he was too caught up in stubbornly sending her here to listen. She was the key, the reason that the Dimensionator had opened that portal... but what was it! Gathering her in his arms, he tried to rouse her, shouting over the faint beeping of her own chronometer, "Angela? _Angela!_" He had to do something... he couldn't abandon her here in this treacherous place. "Angela, _please_, wake up!"

"Leave her be, son."

It was the corny, lethargically tranquil voice of the mystic, echoing from all around. As Ratchet jumped to his feet, not seeing him anywhere, it continued, "Do not worry... I will watch over her. You must go back from whence you came."

Another voice called to him from the other side of the portal, one he had been anxious to hear all along. "Ratchet! Listen to him! You must come back now! If the portal closes, you will be stranded there, resulting in a temporal paradox! And you cannot risk the consequences!"

He blinked as Angela's mask came sailing from the darkened portal. "Clank? _Clank!_" he cried, staring through the dark hole in the air, unsure if he saw the little robot or not. It was hard to think straight, nearly driven over the brink of sanity by this baffling predicament, his stomach knotting in fear. "What do you mean! A temporal paradox...?" But he knew what that meant, checking the chronometer which had been pestering him a moment ago, and his blood chilled at what he saw in the display. The time was all wrong, but what was truly significant was the date: 994, _five years ago!_ "What?! But, _how...?_" His voice failed him as his mind reeled at the implications. He did know one thing; how dire Clank's warning was, having watched a few suspense movies dealing with temporal paradoxes, but he couldn't tear himself from Angela's side. "What about her? I can't just leave her!"

The little bot grew frantic. "She will be all right! You must return now, _before it is too late!_"

Looking back and forth between Angela's helpless form and the energy-ringed portal, he was stuck, unable to choose a course of action, until he thought he saw a flickering around the gateway's edge. His belly clenching in alarm, he made the only choice he could and dove through it.

It was too dark to see for a moment, even with the refinery floodlights. The ground was much harder as his back complained tenderly from a roll to his feet, and the dank coolness of the swamp air was almost chilly compared to the torrid desert winds. He looked back to the evaporating portal, just able to see Angela's prone form as she lay in the sand. Reaching out towards the fading vision, he could just hear the odd voice of the mystic, telling him, "Do not worry, my son... all... will be well..."

He was numb, absently shutting off the chronometer alarm once more, standing there silently as his overloaded mind failed to come to grips with what he had just experienced. Nothing made any sense. He was beginning to wonder if any of it really happened. He needed the advice of his friend, saying out of reflex, "Clank?" That helped to nudge his mind back to lucidity, and he called the little bot's name more loudly. His spirit fell as there was no response, though, collapsing to his knees, his ears drooping as a heavy loneliness fell on him like a load of sand. "You're abandoning me... again? Were you even here to start with?"

'_Do not worry, my son... all... will be well..._' The last message of the strange hermit echoed in his mind, but it seemed more like a taunt now, and he held his hands to his face, whimpering, "You've _got_ to be yanking my tail..." The nano-id clopped over to stand beside his friend, deciding to manifest one more time to comfort him, but froze as another disturbing sound came to them both.

"Well... that was disappointing."

The raspy voice of the Cragmite hung in the air for a moment, causing Ratchet's nerves to jangle and his hair to stand on end. _That_ seemed real enough, and he jumped to his feet, straining for the direction it had come from. "I was certain that Angela Cross, as determined a nemesis as she was at that point in her life, would do more than threaten you with a bloody nose. How pathetic. It seems that, once again, I underestimated you, Lombax."

"Tachyon..." he gasped, then as outrage burned in his chest, he exclaimed hotly, looking around, "What the hell did you do to her!"

"Ohh... nothing, really," came the teasing reply. "I simply brought her here to spend some... quality _time_ with you. You did want to _see_ her, didn't you? Weren't you constantly bemoaning her absence?"

He glanced down at his wrist unit at the mention of the word _time_. His mind swam with a multitude of fearful notions threatening to overwhelm him. 'He... has _that_ kind of power... to even bend _time?_ He must know every move I make! What am I supposed to do about this!' He felt naked and impotent in the face of such almighty domination. Even so, there was yet a spark of defiance in his soul, and he seized on it with all his will. "Damn it, Tachyon... why are you doing this!"

The unseen Cragmite chuckled haughtily. "My dear boy, are you so oblivious that you have to ask? You know what condition I'm in after your blasted Dimensionator had it's way with me, leaving me in this semi-disembodied state. I need something to occupy myself with all this free time on my hands, and you are the perfect diversion. Besides, it's fun for a change to see you at a loss for what to do."

His blood ran hot in his veins as he exclaimed, "You bastard... there's no reason to involve others in this! I don't care if they're enemies or what, you leave them alone! This is between you and me, and if you want me..." His wrench appeared in his hand, and he gave a meaningful swing. "You know where I am, bring it!"

"Oh please," Tachyon giggled mockingly. "Forget ten seconds, you wouldn't last a _nanosecond_ against me! The powers I am able to wield are an order of magnitude beyond anything as trivial as a weapon, or even a starship, as I am sure you are discovering. And yet, you cling to your little toys and your valiant idealistic defiance like a comforting teddy bear, because it's all you have."

Ratchet grit his teeth, his confidence melting away at the Cragmite's dismissive attitude, and it was hard not to think of the mighty wrench in his hand as a useless plaything. The massive head of it hit the rocky ground in his weakened grasp with a feeble _tink_. Unable to come up with anything else to say, he grumbled bitterly, "If you want to kill me for what happened to you... why don't you get it over with?"

He was perplexed at Tachyon's reply. "Who said any such thing? No, my boy, not at all. I told you before I fell into that hellish void that you had a purpose to serve, and it's more true now than ever. Continue on your quest, Lombax, and you will fulfill it, in ways you cannot imagine in your wildest dreams. I do hope, though, that you don't mind if I indulge in a little fun here and there. After all, it must get _boring_ to defeat every enemy you face so handily."

Ratchet chafed at the obscure hints Tachyon left like crumbs before him, anxious to know more. "W-wait, what do you mean? What _kind_ of purpose?" His teeth clenched as the silence went on for many moments, and he knew the Cragmite would have promptly given some sort of snide remark. "Hey... Tachyon? I know you're there! Damn it, _answer me!_" The only sound was the echo of his voice in the little valley. He fell to his knees once more in the grip of near despair. "Just... frigging... great. Now he's got the powers of some demon from Hell. He's more dangerous dead than alive!" he complained to himself, paraphrasing a line from an obscure comedy holovid who's title escaped him. "What the hell am I supposed to do against... _this?_"

"Do what you always do, my friend." He jumped as a familiar voice came to him as if from under water, and as he gazed before him, the ghostly image of Clank rippled into view. "Do not give up. Persevere. Continue fighting until you succeed. I know that the odds seem insurmountable, but cling to those words of Tachyon's, that you will overcome in the end."

Tears welled up in Ratchet's eyes, and he tried blinking them away so he could see. "Oh, Clank... _please_, be real... I need you to be there so _bad_..."

He knew Clank well enough to see the expression of pain on his own features. "Ratchet, please... do not cry. I cannot maintain this presence for long, but I wanted to comfort you by letting you know that I am fine, and that you are not alone. Please, do not let this situation get you down. Of all the beings I have known, you have always been, above all, the foremost optimist. Continue to believe for the best, and surely it will come to pass."

The refusal of the little bot to reveal anything about his situation had been eating at him, and especially now, he was more desperate to know the truth than ever. "Clank, _why_ won't you tell me what's going on? Please, tell me _something!_ What are the Zoni doing to you... why did they take you? _Where_ are you! Can you at least tell me if you're _safe?_"

The little bot looked down sorrowfully, as he did wish he could reveal everything to his friend... almost. "Ratchet, I am sorry. As I said before, there are dangers involved in everything I do, such as appearing before you like this. You must trust me, but let me tell you something. I have learned many, many things since my capture. One of them is that the footsteps you choose through your life are terribly significant. Tachyon was right about one thing in particular. You _do_ serve a wonderful purpose in this universe, for every life you touch, everyone you rescue, is made richer somehow. And the path you choose must be yours to decide alone, and not influenced by me, so that Providence and your instincts can guide you to those lives that need your intervention."

Ratchet gave a loud sniff as he wiped his gauntlet across his nose, finally having something to smile about. "You make me sound like... some sort of guardian angel."

The little robot bounced up and down with a giggle. "Perhaps... in a manner of speaking. Now, go, continue on your way, and leave a trail of blessings in your wake. In due time, you will find your way to me; I know you all too well. And always remember that no life was made more rich from your blessed company than my own... my dearest friend."

He raised his ghostly fist with a smile, and Ratchet began to bump it with his own, but he realized with a twinge of regret that he couldn't. Instead, he traced over the lines of the little bot's form and his face with his fingers, wishing with all his heart that he could seize his friend in a tight embrace. He tried not to cry, though the tears still ran down his cheek as he murmured, "Thanks, buddy... I really... _really_ needed to hear that..."

"I know. Now, I must be going," nano-Clank murmured, stroking along the edge of Ratchet's hand as the Lombax nodded, licking his lips with a stifled moan. As he faded from view, he told Ratchet one last thing, his voice sounding as if it came from a great distance. "Believe in yourself... believe that you will succeed, as I trust you will. Be well, and be safe, my friend..."

"You too, Clank..." he whispered, "you too." He pulled his gauntlets off to wipe his face, snuffling and crying for a while, but the spark of defiance and faith which lingered in his heart glowed more brightly now, again a candleflame of hope. Clank had come through once more, he knew as he hugged himself, right when he needed him the most, just like he always did.

The Grummel arms vendor unfolded, swiveling around to survey the area, spotting Ratchet on his knees and wondering what had happened to him. "Hey, uhh... chief? Ratchet? Your gear's ready."

It took a few attempts to get him to respond. At last, Ratchet nodded, saying to the dealer faintly, "Thanks, just... give me a minute. This has been one seriously long day."

Clank heaved a mental sigh of relief at the end of it all. The shockwave of terror from Ratchet had reached all the way to NEXUS, thanks in part to his tenuous quantum link to the nano-id. But somehow, there was also some kind of connection between himself and his Lombax companion which even dimensional gulfs couldn't sever. Thank heavens, there was a pile of weapons beside Ratchet when the Leviathan nearly killed Angela Cross, and he hadn't had to intervene. Those Lombax instincts were as sharp and quick as ever, despite his grinding, weeks long ordeal.

He would ponder these mysteries later. What concerned him now was this latest revelation from Tachyon. Surely the Guardian knew of this! Or... was it possible that certain extraordinary events could elude him? He was surprised when the quantum answer came to him: Yes.

What the nano-id told Ratchet was the truth, but worry rang through his being. Could one lone Lombax hope to overcome _two_ impossibly powerful foes? He was irritated when the response manifested as a question mark.

She was helpless, lying on a pedestal in a white silken gown like a maiden in a tomb. But she wasn't dead, simply frozen under some kind of spell placed on her by the Overlord seeking to conquer the universe. Meanwhile, her hero was combating an incredible mass of foes all around her, fighting to keep him from rescuing her. At times, it seemed they would prevail, but then he would produce a weapon capable of defeating them, and one by one they fell.

She screamed silently in her soul as a dragon rose up to devour her, but her faithful hero drove it back, standing over her in it's way rather than let it so much as touch her gown. She had to giggle as his tail brushed her nose. Finally it could stand no more and fled to it's cave, and the brave warrior fell to her side, lifting her to him. He was surprisingly small, but still very strong, and he held her to him easily as he leaned down for a kiss.

She blushed inside at how forward he was with an unconscious maiden, but she welcomed it, as his fragrance was sweet, and his heart sweeter. She wrapped her arms around him, whispering into his mouth as she regained her strength, "Ratchet... I knew you would come for me... and, I need..."

"I know..." he murmured, "I need you too..." He drew back the silken fabric over her shoulder, exposing it, and sinking his teeth into it, he began to bite her neck. A tremor ran all through her, her stomach becoming liquid as she melted into him, gasping in shock and delight as she clung to him tightly. 'Oh, _yes_...' she thought as he claimed her, but then she blinked in wonder as a tear splashed her cheek.

It surprised her so much she awakened, blinking up at the sight of her dimly lit home as her mind cleared. Angela purred as she grabbed a pillow, clutching it to her with a smile. "Oh, how yummy..." she crooned, curling around it as she savored the lingering sensation of Ratchet against her body. "I hope I have some more dreams like that one... but darn, I can't remember half of it."

Then she sat bolt upright, throwing the covers from her at the sound of the door buzzer. "What in the... _Ratchet?_" She threw on a robe, her heart racing with excitement as the emotions of the dream still burned in her heart, and she hurried to the front door. Showing up at that very moment... what a perfect fairy tale arrival! And who else could it be?

Mitzy awoke herself at the alarm, taking a peek through the front area camera, and not liking what she saw. "Angela, wait! It's not--!"

The feloid glanced over her shoulder to her bedroom, wondering what her computer friend was saying as she undid the lock, and it occurred to her in that moment that she was acting a bit _too_ impulsively.

She backed away as the door opened with an uncharacteristically sharp hiss, and a large, imposing, suited figure lunged inside along with a burst of snow and a small red bird with a big beak. Her heart twisted in alarm at the realization that her recklessness might have just cost her dearly. "Why, thank ya kindly, ma'am," came over the suit speaker, though there was something about the being's manner that wasn't the least bit polite. He undid a seal in the back of the suit and let it fall away from him to land in a snowy heap in the entranceway, revealing a bluish reptilian in black clothing, a patch over one eye, and sleeves ripped off in a way that bespoke a savage life. He looked like a Sorlek, she reflected in a brief lucid moment, though everything about this one sent a shiver down her spine. Pulling a black bush hat from the suit, he told her as he put it on, "I don't get along well with cold weather, ya see. Uh... may I come in?"

She didn't like the way he was gawking at her, clutching the robe to her as she backed away, her fur standing on end and her ears laid flat. He followed into the softly lit living room, maintaining an uncomfortably close distance as the bird fluttered to his shoulder. "Wh... who are you?" She gave a squeak as her heel caught on the leg of the coffee table and she fell to the couch.

"Careful," he remarked dryly, taking a seat in a cozy chair beside her, and she scooted away as he crossed his legs, his black boots much too close to her feet. "Ya know, yer a hard woman to track down, ma'am. As for me, I'm just a humble trader." The way he said it made it sound like _traitor_. He picked up one of the pictures from a side table, of her and Ratchet together at a fair on Endako, eying it with a smirk in a fashion that made her cringe, and she felt worse at what he said next. "But we do got a friend in common I'm tryin' to track down. Fella by the name of Ratchit." The way he spoke the name was almost spiteful. He put the framed picture back on the table, and her heart jumped at the implication as he laid it face down. "Lovely couple."

She shrunk in on herself, angry and embarrassed at the way that one eye was creeping along her form, and she hugged her robe more tightly to her. She knew she had to focus and stay calm in case this turned ugly, and she was just as afraid for Ratchet. "W... what do you want with him?"

"Oh, to be sure," the reptile drawled, "a boy like that can sure further my career, and he's been a big help to me in the past. But... uhmm..." He scowled as he overheard the sound of a guarded voice from the far end of the house, reaching into his black vest for a small device with a big red button. When he pressed it, Mitzy fell silent. Angela's throat clenched in terror and she had trouble speaking, afraid that she might soon have to fight for her life. "Wwwhat did you just do?"

"Now, don't worry ma'am," he remarked in that disturbingly fake politeness as he put it away, "I'm just makin' sure this cozy li'l chat ain't interrupted. Now, as I was sayin'... Ratchit, he done got himself mired in somethin' pretty deep, far as I can figger."

"Skinned nine ways to hades--" the little bird squawked out before the Sorlek swatted it from his shoulder, causing Angela's stomach to lurch. "Sorry 'bout that, ma'am. My friend does tend to... exaggerate things just a scouche. But it does seem like Ratchit's tryin' to tackle it all 'imself, 'n I thought I might lend the li'l feller a hand, is all. I don't s'pose... you got some idea where 'e might be."

It sounded more like an accusation than a question. Angela wasn't about to give such an unsavory character anything useful. If anything, she wanted desperately to know what information the ruffian had. "I... haven't seen him for years," she lied flatly. "He just... ran off one day in ninety-five, and I haven't seen him since. Sorry I can't help you."

He returned with a wry smirk as he uncrossed his long legs and began to rise. Angela cringed into the couch as he stood over her and drawled, "Well... can't say I'm too surprised. I appreciate the hospitality though. You got a real nice place here... big enough for two."

Her eyes opened wide in panic at the implication of those words and she snapped, "I think you'd better leave." Then she added quickly, in case her remark would anger the rogue, "You know, so you can catch up to him." Of course, she prayed he ended up going the opposite direction. 'Now, if only you would go, _please!_'

Angela quivered inside as he stood there, every aspect of his being disturbing her, even his scent. "Oh, I know whatcha mean, ma'am. That Ratchit's a slippery one. But I thought I'd ask one more thing."

He was fast, much too fast, and though she tried to move, she didn't get halfway to her feet before he sprayed something in her face, a substance that sent her mind spinning almost immediately. As she began to faint, she cried in her mind, 'Please... don't let me know... I don't want to know what hap...'

The Smuggler backpedaled, drawing a large handkerchief from his vest, and swatted the lingering vapor away. Angela fell back to the couch with an odd whine like a little girl who ate something that disagreed with her, a silly smile on her face as her eyes closed. "Well... can't say I ever saw a reaction like - _woah there!_" His small android companion flittered into the last of the aerosol, doing somersaults as the drug hit him almost immediately, and he fell to the table with an idiotic expression of his own. Swinging the hanky through the air over the couch once more just to be sure the spray was dissipated, he grumbled, "Dad gum bird, are you hooked on that stuff or what!"

"Like a fish! Reel me in!" he squawked as the smuggler grabbed his tail feathers in disgust and flung him across the room to land in a small pile of snow by the door.

Glaring irritably, he returned his attention to Angela, sprawled seductively on the couch, and it took a moment to recall what he was about to do. "Uhm... so, can ya understand me, li'l lady?"

"Sure..." she murmured dreamily, adding, "Ratchet's gonna kill you..."

"Ohh, I wouldn't doubt that," he chuckled. "He'd be powerful mad if he found out you'd been in this... compromisin' position. But let's forget all about this li'l incident when I leave. It'll be our... private dream secret, know whut I mean?"

She made a face, grumbling, "...Don't like you."

"Hey, now that's just cold," the Smuggler coughed irritably. "What's that furball got that I ain't got out the wazoo? Wait, don't answer that," he added quickly as she began to respond. "Damn women 're too blunt, 'specially under this stuff. Anyhow, tell me... you happen to know where Ratchit is at the present, or how I can find 'im?"

"Not a clue..." Angela murmured with a smirk. "Mitzy does... or did, before you shut her down..."

He looked to the back of the dwelling sourly, where that voice had come from. "Well, son of a b... figures, and I bet she's a pee eye tee ay to hack into."

"She's my baby..." she told him with a smile. "Loaded her up good... and I'm not the only one who bites..."

He shook his head in disappointment. "Well, if that don't beat all, came all this way for nuthin'... well, almost nuthin'..." he murmured as he leaned around to get a peek under her robe. "I know spendin' some... _quality time_ with you's outta the question--"

"Go ahead!" blurted out the little red parrot-like bird, flitting to his side. "Seize the... moment!" He had to cover his beak with a wing as he burped noisily.

"Shut it, you sick drugged up twerp! You want me to get made into a suit o' luggage by that Lombax?" He turned his attention back to the helpless feloid with a leer. "But... at least I can take a... fond memory back with me. I gotta say... that Ratchit sure got good taste in women. Now if he can just make up his mind."

The Sorlek brushed a finger along the soft fur of her cheek, then blinked in alarm, yanking his arm back with a yelp as she snapped at him, though he didn't make it unscathed. Sucking on a gash in his finger, he exclaimed, "Tarnation, woman! Can't a guy appreciate a fine specimen like yerself for half a minute?!"

"Told ya..." she grumbled, "and I'm just getting started... when I wake up..."

Still nursing his finger, he muttered, "Reminds me why I don't tangle with cat girls. Anyhow... guess I wore out my welcome at that. Better skedaddle before someone shows up, or she _wakes_ up. And I'm gonna need some time to work on one more li'l tactic, if I'm gonna have a hope in hell of findin' that damn Lombax." Shooing off his ruddy companion as he weaved an erratic path through the air, belching as he went, the Smuggler donned his bulky enviro-suit, shaking his head regretfully as he eyed the unconscious feloid lying almost invitingly across the sofa. "It's a shame I got scruples..."

Angela curled up around a pillow at the sound of the door opening, whimpering fearfully, "Ratchet, please... save me..."

A black suited saurian had her chained to a rough, dank stone wall, snickering maliciously as his gloved hand seized her chin, his eyes wandering lustily down her form, as she was wearing embarrassingly little. "I really like the perks o' bein' a tyrant, like havin' a woman under my control wearin'... well, not very much."

She gasped, her heart twisting in shame and outrage as she had dressed that way for her hero. "You have no right--!" she began hotly, then whimpered in pain and fear when that gloved hand squeezed her face tightly.

"That's my line," he growled. "I think you'd better re-examine the situation, li'l lady, before I have to--"

"Back off, you fiend!" came a familiar cry from above. A Lombax slammed his boots into the saurian's chest as he swung down by a rope, sending the villain flying.

"Ratchet!" she cried, her chest swelling with pride and relief, knowing somehow that he would never fail her.

* * *

Author's notes

**Temporal paradox:** an impossible event which is the consequence of time travel, such as going back in time to prevent yourself from traveling through time. While the consequences of such a paradox are entirely up to speculation, they run everywhere from the traveler being stuck in a parallel universe, trapped in a void of non-existence, and even to the universe ceasing to exist itself. The paradox that Ratchet was in danger of causing was being trapped back in time, and in a period in which he already existed.

Since the Tools of Destruction universe is based on the concept of parallel dimensions, the consequences of a paradox might be little or nothing, but certainly, nano-Clank was all too aware that the repercussions were too terrible to risk.

**Leonard:** I forgot to mention him in the previous chapter, but if you've played Ratchet Deadlocked - or Gladiator in the PAL regions I believe - there was a kid wearing glasses who got caught up in Gleeman Vox's study group, and rescued at the end with two of his friends. That was Leonard. Unfortunately, he and his two friends had to mail in that DreadZone coupon to accept an invitation for free secret toy testing...

**Ratchet's chronometer alarm:** the various clusters use a series of beacons strewn throughout the galaxies to emit timing signals which are picked up by everything from starships to watches. If the timing signal changes, say because you ended up accidentally traveling through time, the chronometer will give you a little alarm to ask you if you want to accept the new time.

This was the chapter I was getting ready to post almost a month ago, but I hope it was worth the wait. ;-)


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: The oddest couple**

She couldn't remember where she was imprisoned, or how she got there, but there she was, trapped in an impenetrable cell while outside, Ratchet was fighting off hordes of Tachyon's Enforcers as he tried to reach her. The combat was terrible, as they threw everything they had at the Lombax in revenge for defeating them so handily last time, and though Ratchet suffered attack after attack, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight. Despite their best efforts to slay him, he managed to survive and defeat one Drophyd after another, until finally, he used a massive weapon she'd seen him use in the assault on Fastoon. The air filled with rockets, trailing smoke as they screamed towards the helpless, stubborn last group of Enforcers. The many, many explosions were deafening, and when Ratchet stopped firing, there was nothing left of them.

She clapped and squealed in delight like a little girl as he came to her cell, and with one mighty swing of his massive wrench, the lock was broken and he flung the door open to leap into her arms. He felt so warm and wonderful as they clutched in a tight embrace, and she couldn't hold back a deep kiss, his muzzle furry, but his lips soft and sweet. And so she was surprised when he pulled away from her, asking him what was wrong. "Listen," he said to her, "there's something important I have to tell you. See, Clank--"

She blinked in surprise as he began lifting into the air away from her. "Ratchet? What? What are you doing... why are you leaving me!" And then she saw why, her stomach seizing in horror. _A large hook was caught in his throat._

She fought to cry out as he looked down at her with a sickening dazed expression, dangling from the hook and slowly lifting into the darkness above, as her unseen father cackled at her like a pirate. "Now lass, don't ye fret. Ye deserve better'n this mangy cat 'n his misleadin' words. But he'll cook up right nice, ye'll see!"

The anguish and terror became too much to handle, and she screamed as a horribly loud noise erupted all around her.

Talwyn found herself on the floor beside her bed, jarred from her nightmare as loud music blared from her computer. "That's what I get for listening to Slam at concert level before bed," she grumbled, but then her attitude changed drastically when she saw why it had activated. There was a Blarg and a Cragmite on the divided screen, evidently from Tachyon's troops, and because of how she'd set up her system to snoop for certain transmissions, what they were discussing could only be one thing. The Cragmite's nasty sounding language was being translated at the bottom of the screen. "What do you mean, the garrison was destroyed by _only one attacker?!_"

"But sir," the Blarg replied, "it was that Lombax!"

The Cragmite looked like he was about to inflate to the bursting point as he exclaimed, "_Lombax?!_"

"Yes!" Talwyn exclaimed with a clenched fist, making note of the location in question before minimizing the window, though the information puzzled her. "Cobalia? What the hell was he doing there? Oh well, whatever... this is the first solid lead I've had since Endako--"

She gave a squeal of shock, jumping from her chair as that music alarm blasted again as another call came in, and she slapped the thing off. "Damn it, I forgot to..." Then her voice trailed off as the familiar voice of Angela's computer sounded through the speakers, and what it said caused that lingering fear from her dream to seize her by the throat.

"Talwyn, honey, listen!" she hissed guardedly. "Angela's in troub--"

Talwyn's stomach tied itself in a knot as the computer fell silent. _Angela's in trouble?_ "Mitzy? _Hello?_ What kind of trouble? Come on, keep talk..." She stared at the display in alarm as the message _Call Disconnected_ popped up on the screen. Throwing on a robe, she hurriedly made a call to Sasha. "I just hope she's not asleep, or - what the _hell?_"

The screen on her computer jumped as a stream of alerts appeared. "_Your call has been forwarded to - your call has been - your call has been forwarded - forwarded - your call - been forwarded..._"

Blinking at all the jumps her call was bridging, she began, "What's going on... where the heck did she go--?" But then she realized there was one location in particular the Cazar was intent on. "Oh, Sasha... you'd better not have left without me!" Her heart sank as what she feared seemed to be true.

_Your call cannot be completed because the other party is in hyper-transit_.

Al was pouring over diagrams he'd made, and scribbling some equations on a computer tablet while he waited for some sign of news. "Let me see... the Cerebral Cortex Multiplexor takes in thoughts from the subject's mind, sorting out subliminal, emotional, abstract, symbolic and literal elements to judge the user's intent. Assessed location data is fed to the Quantum Computer, which instantaneously compares the imagined location to every possible real location to judge a match, then... creates a Hawking 'Looking Glass' Paradox matching both locations' spacial and temporal states... hey, this thing has a temporal component? That's - _GAH!!_"

It was Qwark, grasping the cyborg's leg as he sprawled on the floor, panting. The technologist had been so absorbed that he'd completely missed the hero's exhausted arrival. "Al... Ratchet... _where...?_"

The tech slipped his foot from those thick green fingers, muttering, "Well, aren't you late to the party. Ratchet left a few days ago."

As he was about to get back to his analysis, Qwark used the tech's body to haul himself up, crying in exasperation, "A few _days?!_ Al... I've been chasing that little rodent for... a week across _three galaxies!_"

"Actually, he's a cat--"

"Not to mention, falling into the clutches of a shopping addicted barmaid! But let's not get into that," he recalled sourly. "Every lead, I've been a day behind him! He doesn't rest for a minute! It's like trying to catch a cold!" He grabbed the lab coat of the cyborg, shaking him almost violently. "Al, you _have_ to know where he went! _Please_ tell me you know where he went, oh _please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh!_ - speak up man, I can't make that out."

Al had to swat his hand, making the hero let go in reaction. "Simmer down, will ya? You were about to shake my implants loose! I swear." As he tugged his lab coat back into place, he muttered, "Anyway, I... have no clue..."

Qwark couldn't handle that news and collapsed to the floor again in tears, pounding the floor with his huge fists, the shockwaves shaking the building and jarring right through the tech's legs. "It's not fair, not fair _not fair!_" He jumped back up, shouting, "Do you know what that maniacal miscreant is planning?!"

"Actually, yeah--"

"He's going to take on the nearly infinite might of the SONY Empire!"

"Err... _Zoni_--"

"_Single handedly!_" Qwark exclaimed. "Is he out of his mind?!"

"Yeah, that's kinda what I said," Al remarked with a feeble shrug. "But Ratchet just kind of runs off and does things. Hey, I begged him to take me along, and he wouldn't--"

Qwark spotted the diagrams on Al's computer screen just then and bounced the tech aside as he pointed to them dramatically. "Why, those are the top secret diagrams of that... that... _that_... dimension doohickie! _Why didn't I get a copy!_"

Al gave him a dim look as he got to his feet. "Yeah, like you'd know what to do with the schematics for an ice cream sunday." As Qwark was about to launch into a carefully thought out point by point defense of his true mental prowess, something occurred to the cyborg. "Hey... I have all the materials... I bet I could make one! And I think this is the only way we could catch up with--"

Qwark spun the technologist around, blurting out, "Al, I could _kiss--!_" But then he got hold of himself before he said anything truly embarrassing, clearing his throat and trying to look dignified. "I mean, uhm... it is your sworn duty as a citizen of Kerwan and former Q Force member to make me a... dimension... thingie..."

He frowned up at the hero, murmuring, "How do you figure that? And it's a Dimensionator."

Qwark gave him a fatherly arm on the back. "Al... come on. I'm the superhero, and you're the loyal citizen, right? It just... how these things work, you know? And besides..." The tech nearly fell over as Qwark latched onto his feet, wailing, "You have to make me a dimension thingie! Please please _please_ make me a dimension thingie! I'm exhausted, trying to catch up with Ratchet! I need an edge! I'll do anything you want, even be your friend! And everyone knows geeks don't have any!"

He shook himself free of Qwark's clutches, grumbling, "Okay okay _okay!_ Now... knock it off, will ya? That's behavior decidedly _not_ becoming of a superhee - _eww_." He eyed a glob of mucus on his shoes, wiping it off with a shop towel, then tossed it to the hero. "Here, blow your nose... you disgusting--"

He winced as Qwark's honk rang disturbingly in the little shop, watching in dismay as the hero dropped the towel on the floor, a few feet away from the trash receptacle. "So... how long do you think it'll take?" he asked hopefully, tapping his fingers together.

Al grumbled as he picked the towel up in distaste, tossing it in the trash, "Well, just give me an hour or two, will ya? Winding a Quantum Induction Coil isn't like tying your shoes, ya know."

"Right, right," Qwark nodded, as if he understood perfectly, beginning to follow Al behind the counter. "Need some help?"

Images of thermonuclear devastation welled up in the tech's imagination, and he pointed Qwark back. "Just stay behind the counter. I'm the experienced shop owner and you're the loyal customer. That's just how these things work. Now let me see..." He began rummaging through his knick-knack bin. "If I recall the specifications correctly, I need about two miles of fine gauge superconductor wire, twelve one-centimeter rods of dark matter, a kilo of Raritanium plus the laser, the Bose-Einstein condensate out of the fridge, an Anti-matter Junior compact reactor... hmm. I still need to rough out that temporal component to this thing..."

Qwark told him, "Don't make it too temporary. I want it built to last."

It took a little longer than he anticipated, because the technologist came up with a few ideas as he went along, but finally he waddled up, saying, "Here ya go, Qwark. I, uhm..." The poor superhero really had been exhausted from chasing the Lombax and had nodded off, plus he'd been bored out of his skull struggling to make sense of Al's unfathomable conversation. "Wake up!"

Qwark snorted in alarm, looking around. "Hey, where are the throngs of my adoring..." Then he noticed the technician standing before him, wearing the Dimensionator he'd made, exclaiming, "Al! You did it!" Then he noticed it wasn't quite the same. The helmet was smaller, had a cable, and something was strapped to his back. "Al... what did you _do?_"

The cyborg realized why he was reacting so, informing him, "Oh! I made a few improvements of my own."

Qwark's mind wasn't known for it's blazing speed, but it was moving forward. "So... why are _you_ wearing _my_ Dimensionator?"

"I'm not. _This_ one's mine. Here's..." With an effort, he hauled another unit from behind the counter, the superhero grabbing it up easily. "Yours."

Qwark looked at it uncertainly for a time, murmuring, "Helmet... backpack..." Then when he had that sorted out, he began putting it on, fussing around the thick connecting cable. "Like... what kind of improvements?"

He explained, "Mostly, I isolated the active components to the backpack. That way, if it explodes, it won't take your head off."

Qwark beamed at the cyborg. "Al, you're amazing! You think of every... _thing_..." His enthusiasm waned as something occurred to him, and he murmured, pointing, "Explosion here... versus explosion _here_... wait a minute..."

Al went on heedlessly, "Another advantage is that you don't have all that weight on your head, and... well, I need all the help I can get."

Qwark winced as he tried to fit his own helmet comfortably over his antenna. "Uhh... what was that about an _explosion?_"

The cyborg waved dismissively. "Oh, the chances of that are incredibly... well, slight, anyway..."

The hero muttered as he managed to get the helmet seated on his head, fumbling with the chin straps, "How..._ slight_ are we talking? And how big an explosion?"

Al tapped his chin thoughtfully. "To be honest, because of the potential in dimensional forces involved, it might be a good idea to be a kilocubit away."

"So..." Qwark began, looking to his back nervously, "we're talking... _sudden death overtime?_"

Al grumbled at him, "Oh, don't be such a baby. Ratchet's model is rebuilt with some really old parts to it. Ours are totally brand new."

"Is there a warranty? You know, survival of the superhero species ranks pretty high in my book..." Then something else finally registered in that cavernous mind, and he blurted out, "_Ours?_ What... you mean, you think you're going along _too?_"

Al gave him a dim look, muttering as he thumbed his straps, "Well duh, Captain Oblivious."

Qwark waved at him. "Hold on, citizen, you're just a _civilian_. You should leave the adventuring to the professional crime fighters, such as you local superhero. Which would be _me_."

"Oh, sure," Al snapped at him. "You _need_ me around till you get what you want, then you throw me up like cold Blargian porridge--" He muttered to himself, "Ew... I think I've been around you too long..."

Qwark smiled to him. "No, that about sums it up."

"Oh yeah? What about my membership in the Q Force?"

"Err..." Qwark was afraid he might have something there, but then pointed out, "Yeah, but you're retired."

The cyborg blinked at him incredulously. "Since when!"

"Oh... come on, Al! Don't quibble over technicalities. Besides, I don't need a bunch of dead weight slowing me... well, you aren't exactly _dead_, but you aren't too lively either..."

The portly cyborg planted his fists on his flabby sides defiantly. "Qwark, listen! I am _not_ going to be cut out of this mission, not _this_ time. Besides, I'm the _only _one who knows how to operate the Dimensionator."

The hero cringed angrily as if he'd been stabbed. "Ohhh... that is so totally _blackmail!_"

Al stubbornly folded his arms. "Yeah, that about sums it up."

Qwark grit his teeth at him, growling, "This is going in your records, little mister."

"Oh, don't be such a whiner. Besides, this is about rescuing Clank. And... hey, you know, if I do say so myself, I'm a fairly good clue solver. What if we beat Ratchet there? He shouldn't have to go through this all by himself. And he's done so much for us, it would be nice if we could return the favor for once and save him a heap of trouble! And, you know..." he added for emphasis, "the Zoni speak only in fluent _geek_..."

The thought of a multitude of nerdy little being nattering away in unabridged dictionary explicit language made of multiple syllables made him dizzy for a moment, as Al was bad enough. "Ohhh... _yuck_," he mumbled, shaking his head to drive away those disturbing notions. "All right... point taken... and taken, and taken, and... taken. So... come on then, give me the cheat sheet on how to fly this thing."

The cyborg was relieved that his simple ploy worked. "Okay. Well, the obvious first step is to give the starter cord a yank."

Qwark nodded, reaching up for the dangling handle at the side of the helmet, then felt around for it, then stared at his empty hand as if it might appear there. "Al... I think you forgot something..."

The cyborg told him apologetically, "Oh, yeah. I relocated the handle to the back unit."

Qwark reached around, feeling where he could, then strained to touch everywhere he could, and felt nothing but cold metal. "Uhh... where? Tell me when I'm getting warm."

"Oh, for crying out... it's just... right..." With his extra weight and stubby arms, Al had even less luck, barely able to touch his pack at all. "Hrm... I see what you mean. Oh well, ergonomics was never my strong suit."

The hero grumbled sarcastically, "Oh, Al... when something is altered, and it ends up _less_ useful, that's not usually called an _improvement_."

Al gave a casual shrug. "No problem. We'll just use the buddy system."

Qwark stared blankly. "Uhh... _buddy system?_"

"Yeah. I'll yank on yours, and you pull on mine."

The hero cringed, making the most distressed expression the cyborg could remember. "Al... grown men don't... _talk like that_ with each other."

He blinked back unknowingly. "Whadya mean?"

Qwark struggled to come up with a wording that didn't make him queasy. "Well.... it's just that... uhm... I'll tell you when you're older."

When it hit him what the hero was squirming about, Al exclaimed heatedly, "The _pull handle!_ On the _pack_... oh, just turn around."

Qwark wasn't sure he'd like this, but when the engine fired up, he heaved a sigh of relief. "Well... that wasn't so bad. It almost felt macho."

"Okay, my turn," Al said, tottering up before him. "And hurry up. I still have to cover spacial dislocation."

"Uhh... could you use more common, every day terms that normal mortals use?" He jerked on the cord, blinking as he pulled the cyborg right over on his rump, but at least the engine was puttering right along. "Uh, sorry."

"Just... don't be so _exuberant_ next time," Al groaned as he struggled to his feet. "Anyway... this thing is as simple as can be to use. Where's your space ship?"

Qwark wondered if that was a trick question. "Uhhh... the _space port?_"

"Okay... now, close your eyes, and imagine where you want to be..."

"Where I want to be..." Qwark repeated a bit vacantly. "_Where... I want to be_..."

"Now, tell the Dimensionator to take you there," Al explained as he began collecting his luggage. "And I'll see you at--"

He was cut short as a black rift in the air ringed with energy flashed into existence, engulfing the bewildered hero before vanishing.

The cyborg blinked in surprise. "Well... I guess it was so simple, even _he_ could grasp it in one go. In any case, _tooo the Space Por--!_"

*FLASH!*

The kids at the Qwark Fan Club HQ were bored stupid, their bodies languishing around the room as if casualties of the Boredom Wars. One of them groaned, "Man... this place is dead since that disaster."

A rather rotund young fellow proclaimed, "Maybe that big robot was part of an advance invasion force and we'll have another one!"

A couple of the boys looked up excitedly with cries of delight, but one skinny lad wearing glasses interrupted. "Yeah, except people die. And the power goes out. And we have to hide in those stupid shelters. And then the city's a mess for days, and we can't do anything."

One of the girls added, looking pointedly at the obese kid, "And there isn't as much _food_."

He stuck his tongue out in reply. "Well... _something_ has to happen, and soon--!"

They all looked up in amazement as there was a zapping noise and a flash in the air, Qwark appearing in his unusual accessories and waving to them. "Hi, gang! Sorry, gotta run, but I wanted to stop in and just say that I'm about to embark on my most thrilling adventure ev--!" And then with a blaze of light and darkness, he vanished in mid-sentence.

In an astonished unison, they all gasped, "_Wow..._"

*FLASH!*

He was at the Megamall, standing in front of Starcoast. "Oooh! Courtney Gears videos! And posters! _On sale!_"

*FLASH!*

The other diners in the restaurant gaped at the hero as he devoured a plate of Friggian King Crab, his motorized contraption puttering at idle. "Oh waiter, could I have a bit more wine? My tumbler is dry."

*FLASH!*

Qwark's cheeks flushed with lurid excitement. "Woah... the Playbot centerfold shoot!" Suddenly the place erupted with screams. "_Woops_--"

*FLASH!*

Al had fallen asleep waiting for the hero to arrive at his ship, slumped against a pile of luggage, when a sudden explosion of light and noise caused him to tumble over it. Qwark called to the cyborg, "Sorry Al, I had a bit of trouble adjusting to this convoluted contraptions curious qualities. And besides, I had to pick up a few things for the journey."

Al adjusted his monocle to bring the sight into focus, blurting out as he saw dozens of parcels in the hero's arms, "_A few things--?!_ Oooh... hold on, are those Courtney Gears videos?"

Qwark flashed him a jubilant smile. "The very latest! The perfect companion for a couple of lone male travellers on a lengthy mission. Now, let's get packing, chum. We have a couple of friends to impress!" He added as he pulled out a remote and lowered the rear entrance ramp, "Say... I don't suppose you could add a muffler to this thing, could you?"

Wearing a space suit and with a monocle over his uncovered eye, the saurian was poised over an exposed circuit board, the instrument panel floating beside him. He held a custom circuit chip in a pair of tweezers, lowering it slowly towards a similar chip on the board. "Easy does it... slow 'n steady wins the - _what in tarnation?!_" He steadied himself as a crash rang throughout the satellite he had invaded, and he grumbled over his radio, "I know a certain red parakeet that's gonna be hitchhikin' _if he messes with the ship's controls again!_"

There was a birdy squeak over the suit speakers. "Arrrw... impulse in the port engine!" the android squawked in reply.

"Yeah, right," the reptile muttered. "Better not be any _more_ damn impulses. Now... where was I?" Eying the circuit board once more, he lowered himself and his device towards the control circuit, holding his breath as he carefully oriented the legs of the one chip over the other. When they lined up precisely, he touched them together, and the chip bonded itself to it's host. "Well now! If I do say so myself, I don't think too many hackers could'a done better." He added as he shook the monocle away and replaced the panel over the control system, "No thanks to a certain redheaded sidekick. Irreguardless, I should be all set to track a certain Lombax... if'n the darn cat'll ever pick up a call. I swear, danged feline's as big a recluse as Donald Trunks."

As he emerged from the relay satellite and replaced the access panel, he bounced his finger off of his helmet visor as he still felt bothered by the cut, feeling the urge to suck on it out of habit. "Speakin' o' cats, that Ratchit better watch hisself around that one girl. She plays pretty rough! And heck, all I wanted was the sweet sensation of that young lady's fur between my fingers... what's the big deal?"

"Tact matters," squawed the avian android.

"Yeah, like you'd know a thing about that," grumbled the Smuggler as he drifted into the ship's airlock.

* * *

Author's notes

I know I'm forgetting something... I hate my 10 hour job. Did I mention that I hate my 10 hour job? Oh well, if I remember it, I'll edit it in later or in a subsequent chapter. Meh. :P


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21: Tribulation, and Revelation**

Ratchet's eyes bugged out when he saw a huge collection of pewter-finish metallic figures adorning the engineer's desk. Most prominent was a name plaque of the material, reading:

Doctor Linus Fleabody

Head of Research and Development

And all that other complicated stuff

The Felosi looked up as Ratchet came storming in, saying brightly, "Well! If it isn't my favorite Lomb-_AUGH!_"

He gave a startled cry as Ratchet seized him by the lab coat, yanking him from the chair and shoving him into the wall, exclaiming, "Are you _crazy?!_"

The startled engineer reached up to set his glasses properly on his nose, fumbling with jumbled syllables for a moment. "Wuh-w-w-well... I've been accused of that before, yes, but what--?"

Ratchet grabbed a figurine of an aircar from the desk, demanding, "What is this!"

The engineer peered at it for a moment, beginning to say, "Why, that is a finely rendered model of one of our forthcoming indestructible--"

"What's it _made of?!_" Ratchet growled, his irises beginning to dilate threateningly.

"Uhm... _Trillium?_" Linus murmured guiltily as it finally dawned on him what the fuss was all about. He added quickly, "But wait, I can give you a cut of the profits--"

"No, _listen_ to me!" Ratchet told him, shaking the aircar model in his face. "If this stuff hits the market, and our enemies get hold of it - and they _will_, they're going to use it to give their soldiers and war machines _the most impenetrable armor in the universe!_"

"Oh - _ohhh_..." he drawled out as the dire implications hit him, though a counter argument popped into his mind. "But then, Gadgetron could provide comparable equipment to the Solana military, even superior--"

"No!" Ratchet interrupted. "As crazy as things are already, we don't need another arms race!" He swung the Felosi over his desk, suspended from his lab coat, taking his hand and pushing his finger onto the call button to his secretary. "Cancel Trillium production, and have all the material made so far stored in a _secure_ vault."

He tried to make one last plea for his scheme, asking timidly, "Uhm... listen, couldn't we negotiate--?" Ratchet pointed sternly to the image of the robot secretary on the screen, then blinked in shock as the engineer muttered something eerily reminiscent of Qwark's lament. "Ohh... fiddle-faddle! _Why_ do you hero types have to drag trivial issues like responsibility into these matters?"

"Well," the secretary remarked, "I haven't seen you like this before. Ratchet really _was_ in a mood, wasn't he?"

"Not _now_, Pamela," Linus hissed, evidently the robots having weaned the engineer from quoting their serial numbers. Ratchet gave him a shake, and the Felosi continued defeatedly, "Ohh, uhmm... notify the factory to cease production of all Trillium products immediately, and have them placed in my secure storage vaut."

"_What?!_" Ratchet gasped in astonishment, sensing a double cross.

"Wait," Linus said quickly, "it's the most secure location in the building!"

Ratchet shook his head tiredly, as he didn't have any time to waste on side issues. "Okay okay, just do it."

"Right away, sir," the secretary replied, causing the Lombax to chuckle as she gave him a wink.

Plopping the engineer back into his elevated chair, Ratchet told him adamantly, sweeping his hand across the model littered desk, "And don't forget all this. And anything _else_ you had made, other than that barricade target."

"I swear, that's gratitude for you," the Felosi grumbled, fussing his glasses back into place, and missing the heated look Ratchet shot at him. "Now, if you are finished _assaulting_ me, I bid you good day!"

"Sure, fine... no, wait a minute!" Ratchet began, stopping himself with a jolt as he hadn't even dealt with the reason for the visit, thinking he really did need to get more sleep. He took a seat at the desk and clasped his hands, unsure how cooperative the engineer was going to be. "Listen... I need a favor."

Linus returned with a flatly appalled look. "After what you just put me through?!"

"Doctor Fleabody, come on," he sighed, picking up a figurine. "You _can't_ let this get into the wrong hands. The consequences are inconceivable. It's bad enough that the Cragmites overran large sectors of the Polaris galaxy."

"The _Cragmites?_" the feloid blurted out. "I thought they had vanished decades ago."

Ratchet gazed at him incredulously. "I... take it you don't keep up with the news."

"Well... no, just the stock reports. And jeepers, what a rollercoaster it's been lately!"

"I can't imagine why..." Ratchet muttered sarcastically. Then he noticed the defensive expression had vanished from the engineers face, saying quickly, "Anyway, listen. I need some gear from you, and some weapon upgrades. And I can pay for it."

When it occurred to the engineer that he had Ratchet over a barrel, the toothy smile returned and he drummed his fingers on the desk in anticipation. "Well then... why don't we get down to business?"

Ratchet saw the bolts spinning in the engineers eyes and heaved a sigh of resignation, wondering what kind of bonus he would have to bargain through.

* * *

Talwyn was beside herself with worry, deciding that no matter what, she would go to Angela's to find out what was wrong, the concern eating at her stomach like an ulcer. But just as she rose from her chair, a message came up. "Talwyn, honey? It's me, Mitzy. Listen, do you know--?"

Half a world lifted from her shoulders just then, and she jumped back in her seat. "Oh, Mitzy! Thank heavens... what happened!" But then the computer's words replayed in her mind and she blurted out, "Wait... _you don't know?_"

"No, I'm sorry hon," she replied. "I'm actually a distributed network, and I'm trying to wake my _self_ at Angela's home right now, if you catch my - wait a minute, I think I'm finally getting through." There were the musical tones indicating a network being fixed, but the young girl nearly fell out of her chair again when Mitzy screamed, "_Angela, get your *asp* up!_"

Something was nagging her awake, which left her torn because her dreams were very confused dark struggles, and she seemed powerless to do anything about them. It was worse because Ratchet seemed to always be in trouble himself, and when he tried to come to her rescue, it only placed his life in more danger. On top of that, she felt woozy, dizzy and a little nauseous. But even if these dreams were nightmares, at least she could be with him.

The voice was shrill and insistent though, and her eyes fluttered open in a moment of disorientation. Muttering half formed words, she struggled to bring herself fully awake so she could tell the person raising cain in the other room in no uncertain terms to shut up. Something began nagging her though, a deep insistent worry like a nightmare she couldn't remember but couldn't shake either. Then she noticed where she was. 'The... _couch?_ What am I doing here?' The events of the night and her dreams jumbled together in a confusing fog, and she wasn't sure of anything.

She tried to move, though her form seemed made of numb, unresponsive rubber, and almost appeared that someone else was controlling it. When she did manage to sit up, the world began spinning, and she had to close her eyes as she struggled to fight off waves of dizziness. At last, reality began falling into place, and she realized it was her computer screaming her head off. She tried to shout over it, though what came out was a weak murmur as she drawled sleepily, "Mitzy... put a cork in it, please..." She finally dredged up the strength to get to her feet, staggering towards her bedroom, holding her head in her hand and grumbling, "Whoever gave me... what-_ever_ I had last night... I'm gonna wring their neck, I swear..."

Talwyn was growing frantic now, and it didn't help that Mitzy sounded almost hysterical. She couldn't get the computer to hush up and explain, but evidently Angela came to, because the computer heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, Angela, thank heavens you're--"

"Mitzy... zip it," the woman grumbled as she appeared in the doorway, pointing vaguely in the direction of the monitor as she wove an unsteady path to her desk. She had to catch herself on furniture as she made her way, as she seemed to not be all there yet, and Talwyn wilted at the pathetic sight, wondering what had happened to her. She couldn't help an inner twinge of jealousy too, as she was a lovely Secsauri, her open robe revealing an embarrassingly seductive figure. Angela finally made her way to the desk, having a bit of trouble placing her rear squarely in the seat as she muttered thickly, rubbing her tender head, "What in flaming black hell were you doing... yelling your head off like that?"

Talwyn gaped at her in astonishment, saying over the computer, "Angela, you mean _you don't remember?_"

The feloid's eyes opened in surprise, murmuring suspiciously, "Are you... playing with your voice again?" Then, seeing the girl's face in the monitor, she tumbled over backwards with a startled cry.

"Angela, are you all right?" Talwyn asked in sync with the computer, Mitzy adding sarcastically, "You dingbat."

A hand shot up, and after a few shaky moments, began waving, Angela saying from the floor, "I'm... fine. Really."

"Yeah, right," muttered the computer.

"Mitzy, come on," Talwyn said scoldingly as the feloid struggled to get the chair upright and herself properly seated again. "She looks terrible. Angela, what happened to you!"

The geneticist became aware that her robe wasn't concealing very much without the belt and clutched it together with an inner blush, though what the girl said confused her. "W... wait, how do you know all this? Who are you, anyway?"

"Well, uhm..." the girl muttered, chewing her lip as she was afraid there were no secrets as to who was after Ratchet's heart. "I'm Talwyn Apogee, a friend of--"

She fell silent as Angela tumbled to the floor again with a squeal of horror, and stayed there. Mitzy gave a dreary sigh, murmuring, "Angela... don't be like this. She's a good kid."

"No. Go away," the feloid snapped, then added with a growl, "And Mitzy, we're gonna have a little talk after this."

"Angela, please!" Talwyn cut in quickly before an argument started. "I was worried sick about you! What happened to you! Don't you remember _anything?_"

This caused the feloid to peek above the edge of the desk curiously. "Worried... about me? Why?" She began fighting with the chair again, muttering curses as she was still dazed and clumsy from the drug.

"Well, I got a call from Mitzy--" she began, though the computer cut her off.

"Angela, listen. A couple hours ago, you lost your mind and let in some reptile goon, thinking it might be Ratchet. And here, I thought I raised that girl better..."

Suddenly, that nagging worry from her dreams became outright fear, and she hugged herself as she began to shake. Her memories were a jumble, but she recalled a blue skinned, leering face, and how he was standing over her, and... _touching her_... "W-w-what did he do to... _ohmygod_..." Fear became horror when her imagination ran wild, horror became nausea as her stomach lurched, and she bolted for the restroom.

Talwyn squeezed her eyes shut in sympathy as unpleasant retching, choking sounds came from the other room, whimpering, "Oh, Angela... _please_ be okay... oh please, oh _please oh please oh please_..."

* * *

Ratchet had trouble eating, trouble doing anything for that matter, idly making swirls with his fry in ketchup. The encounter with Tachyon back on Cobalia had left him feeling dazed, lost, almost hopeless. He knew that the Cragmite had garnered some insane capability in that bizarre state the Dimensionator had cast him into, but this... it was worse than he could ever imagine. It was a nightmare come to life.

_"The powers I am able to wield are far beyond anything as trivial as a weapon, or even a starship, as you are discovering. And yet, you cling to your little toys and your valiant idealistic defiance like a comforting teddy bear, because it's all you have."_

That terrible revelation rang deep into the pit of his stomach. "He's right," Ratchet sighed, dropping his fry into the sauce as if in defeat. "What am I supposed to do in the face of this kind of power?"

_"Do what you always do, my friend. Persevere. Do not give up. Continue fighting until you succeed. I know that the odds seem impossible, but cling to what Tachyon told you, that you will overcome in the end."_

He smiled ruefully, picking up the fried potato sliver with the intent of eating it, but he didn't get that far, making circles in ketchup once more. "You're right too, Clank. I can't just curl up and die, and I'm not going to give him the satisfaction. There's too much at stake here, and I have a feeling it goes a lot farther than I can guess. For all I know... the whole supercluster is depending on me." He had a funny feeling that he should be using the word _universe_, but... no, that really was crazy. "Still... just what am I supposed to do to beat him?"

He was also bothered by a nagging fear over Angela. "Is she all right? I can't believe this stupid situation, that forced me to leave her like that. Was that crazy mystic even there? She was so helpless..." He fell silent with a sigh, letting his imagination run away with itself for a while. She was in the state of being right before they defeated Captain Qwark and restored the Protopet to it's rightful condition, when she was comfortable with him. At that time, five years past, he grew afraid of all the consequences and responsibilities of being in a relationship, despite how good it felt to be with someone who had feelings for him, cared for him... loved him. It was wonderful, but he was young, inexperienced, downright clueless as to what to do with the opposite sex. But then, at that moment on Tabora, he could have started over, fresh, not repeated the mistakes of five years ago and dumping her, when their hearts were still so close.

The memory of that scene came to mind vividly, of how he had laid her down gently in the sand, still cradled in his arms as he knelt beside her. He could have held her close, kissed her awake, felt her body come to life as he clutched her to him, his teeth sinking into her neck as he ravished those succulent curves--

He gasped, lurching awake, almost panting for breath as his body trembled with the desires still racing through his form. He slapped his hand to his head, gasping, "Oh, my gosh... I really _had_ better get more sleep. This is getting bad, with me nodding off all the time."

His hair rose on end as a raspy, bug-like voice said from behind, "Oh really? Would you like a pillow, then?" He whirled around in his seat, his stomach knotted in fear, to find himself facing Tachyon, much taller and standing behind him, his scepter drawn back like a bat. "_Sweet dreams_, Lombax!" he cried as that scepter struck his head with a crushing, mind numbing, agonizing blow.

His eyes sprang open with a stifled cry, casting about in alarm for a few seconds as his mind fought to make sense of what was going on. He put his hands to his face as he saw that he was still in the Galaxy Burger and other than a few bewildered diners, things were quiet. "Oh, good grief... now I'm having dreams inside dreams." But something was wrong... there was a sticky moisture on his face, and when he drew his hands back, he gave a shrill cry. _They were drenched with blood!_

It took a few moments of stark terror for him to realize it was just ketchup; he had inadvertently let his hands fall into his plate. Gritting his teeth, he growled stifled curses as he went to the napkin dispenser to clean himself up, the other people in the diner giving him a wide eyed berth. "Oh, crapping _hell_... now everyone thinks I'm crazy!"

His stomach burned in outrage as he heard a nasty laughter coming from thin air, everyone looking around for the source. "You should know better than to fall asleep at your dinner table, Lombax. You never know what kind of a scene you may cause."

"Shut up, shut _up_, damn you!" he hissed, failing utterly at nonchalance as he said to the few beings in the diner, "Uhh... thought I lost my wallet." He hurried back to his table, grateful that it was two hours yet until lunch and the place was relatively empty, ignoring the startled people as he wolfed down the last of his jalapeño burger and drink, and beat a hasty exit.

He heaved a sigh of relief as he made it to the walkways outside, as even though he was still among mobs of people, at least he didn't feel boxed in. He watched for a moment as workers putt up decorations all around the buildings as Millennium Day drew near. It was still four standard weeks off, but after all, it was the biggest celebration for the clusters in a thousand years. He sighed, trudging on his way, as he had been looking forward to celebrating it with Clank and his friends. Now he wasn't sure if he was even going to be in this universe then.

He'd been trying to sort out his thoughts, and struggled to pick up the fragments of where he'd left off, drawing forth a pocket tablet.

Tachyon has some kind of god power now. He can even move through time.

Still, for some reason, he doesn't want me dead.

He noticed the Cragmite across the street, his body partly emerging from that bizarre halo of blackness, giving him a menacing look. "No... he just wants to drive me insane," he muttered bitterly, hurrying on his way. "Damn it... I have to focus. I can't let him rattle me, or everything will fall apart."

What to do about it?

Continue on, don't give up. Face every enemy the same as always, as an obstacle that has weaknesses. Find them and exploit them.

Finish gearing up.

Keep looking for clues about the Zoni.

Stay focused. Keep on my toes. Watch for things out of the ordinary.

Get plenty of rest somehow, and eat regularly.

Don't get discouraged. Accept failures, learn from them and move on.

Convince or trick Clank into giving up SOME kind of info. Talk about the situation where he's being held.

Figure out what the hell Tachyon is scheming!

Get help from friends?

He gazed forward with a sigh. Ever since Clank became a part of his life, he never had to face a disaster alone. He still had very capable friends, all of who he cared for deeply, a few, he loved. But when things were truly dangerous, he'd always faced those threats with Clank, or even by himself. And this was the worst one ever. He shook his head stubbornly. "I can't drag them into this... I just can't. I'll have to figure out some way to do it with Aphelion's help alone."

He came up with one more, typing in:

Discover the secrets of the Dimensionator, and my purpose.

That perplexed him as much as anything. 'How the hell am I supposed to figure that out? No one knows what their purpose is, if there is such a thing, other than using their talents. But it seems like... there's something big about all this... about me just being alive somehow.' It was an ominous feeling, as that heavy sense of destiny fell on him again. 'If only I had some clue where to go for an answer... even Clank didn't know! Do the Lombaxes have a secret? And the Dimensionator... what could _it's_ secret possibly be?'

And then something came to him, striking with the emotional impact of Tachyon's scepter, and he stopped in the middle of the walkway. For several moments, he couldn't breathe, oblivious to the people passing him with puzzled looks. It was a wonder he didn't fall to his knees.

'The Dimensionator... it can open portals through time... _I can see my parents!_' He clenched his fists, looking down at them, short of breath. 'Mom... dad... I can fire it up... and in just a few seconds... I can be there with you again! You wouldn't have to die... _I could save--!_'

And then he wanted to cry, and indeed, tears rolled down his cheeks as he wept silently. He knew the terrible, awful truth.

'No... I can't... I can never see you again. Who knows what would happen?'

One dreadful holovid painted a horrible picture of a well meaning time traveler, and the consequences of his act. He inadvertently caused the inventor of the time machine to die long before he had a chance to create it. The universe came unraveled from the impossible paradox, the dimensional framework tearing apart in a horrible cataclysm of angry energies. And it didn't stop with that one. All realities were torn apart with it. Nothing existed, nothing at all. The ominous warning Clank gave him back on Cobalia rang bitterly in his soul.

_"If the portal closes, you will be stranded there, resulting in a temporal paradox! And you cannot risk the consequences!"_

He couldn't go back and make things different, or even try to change history indirectly, not with the terrible possibilities involved. The realization was devastating; it felt like his parents had died all over again. He gazed up at the sunny skies overhead which seemed to be mocking him just then, blinking through his sorrow. 'So much power, right in my hands, and I can't use it... _it's not fair._'

It took a while to regain his composure, but he knew if he wasted time, opportunities might be lost forever. He trudged resolutely to the Starport past some sanitation workers, feeling as if Tachyon or some other gremlin was adding the weight of world upon world to his shoulders. "Man," he grumbled, "this situation sucks in so many ways, it's not funny--"

There was a sudden crash behind him, and before he could think, he'd drawn his Lancer and fired at the cause. Then he cringed in dismay as he saw a hole melted through the side of a dumpster. The sanitation workers all peered from behind cover, and one with a more colorful uniform and silvery hair drawled from under a garbage truck, "Hey, ya yahoo! That thar's Starport property!"

Ratchet put the Lancer away, stepping back sheepishly, stammering, "Uhmm... hey, listen... it's been a rough... _here!_" It occurred to him that bribery was always an option, throwing a bag of bolts to the surface in front of the foreman, gratified to see his eyes twinkle.

"We-he-he-hell now... maybe we could overlook this little - _hey!_" He watched angrily as a purplish tentacle reached down from within the garbage truck they were tending and snatched the loot, and as it dangled the trophy in the air, from within the truck rumbled a deep, monstrous laughter. The foreman scrambled to his feet as the others gathered round, jumping for the tantalizing prize just out of their reach. "Wilbur! Dag nab it, you give that back! That ain't yaurs!"

As the chorus of outraged workers failed to intimidate the creature gloating in the truck's unsavory load, Ratchet saw his opportunity to escape unnoticed, though he couldn't tear his eyes from the bizarre scene as he backed away. "I just... don't know what to make of this crazy world any more."

Ratchet approached the starfighter, donning his helmet, when Aphelion noticed a tell tale smudge on his muzzle. "Did you eat at Galaxy Burger _again?_"

He muttered evasively as the canopy opened and he jumped inside, "Uhmm... maybe." He cringed as the ship gave him an angry growl, hurrying through the start up procedures. "Listen, I'll chase it with a Go Shake," he added just before an unsavory burp. "Uhm... when there's room for it." And when he felt like it; what he really wanted right now was another soda to settle his stomach.

The engines quickly reached their optimum parameters, and he punched the throttle, glad to be on his way as the sleek fighter cut through the atmosphere and into open space, but there was no getting away from those heavy, nagging emotions. It was impossible to miss the Lombax brooding, Aphelion asking him gently, "Ratchet... is something the matter?"

He winced at the motherly concern, as he wasn't in the mood for it right then, muttering, "I'd... rather not talk about it right now, okay? I'll be all right."

"Well... how about some music?" she suggested. "That usually helps."

"Nah... maybe in a bit. But I do want to catch some news." He flipped on a channel, only to find a bloated news talk commentator speaking, Crush Limbo.

"--Reports coming in from Polaris aren't encouraging. It looks like the Cragmites have returned, and they've seized some crucial territory. Resistance groups are disorganized without a central authority. Things are falling aspart and everyone is suffering, but if anyone from outside sends so much as a care package, Tachyon is threatening open war on _everyone_. And of course you know we can't count on the high and mighty Alliance, since they only come out of the shadows when they want more of our hard earned bolts. I'm telling you folks in the studio audience, a big bad war is coming. You have to have the stomach for it, and I don't think our fat, lazy, head in the sand citizens do." A tentacle reached into a bag of chips which he stuffed into his mouth whole, chomping furiously. "You really have to ask yourself if the first Millennium of the Clusters is the last. Ooh, clusters..."

Ratchet made a face as he switched channels. "I'm really not in the mood for a sensationalist talk show host either, I just want some news." His brows began raising at what he came across next.

"--We have to try and dialog with the Cragmites," said another bloated looking figure with yellow-silver hair, Crass Matthews. "What hope is there if we can't talk to each other? And look who started all this trouble in the first place: one single Lombax. Just one little guy! Maybe we should just capture it and hand 'im over. I mean, after all, it's for the good of the children."

He slapped it off with a choked cry, murmuring, "Now I know why people like Crush are so popular." Biting his lip in trepidation, his finger hesitating over the console, he finally turned to Vox News. He coughed out a groan as his _favorite_ newscasters were on again, Dallas and Juanita.

"The situation in the Polaris Galaxy is looking dicey, _Juaaanita_," drawled the green skinned news anchor. "The Resistance is in disarray since the Cragmites reappeared in large numbers. Without a central command to guide them, the rogue groups are apparently easy pickings for Tachyon's forces. We have an on site news feed coming in from our roving reporter, Erma Bombshell, who is presently in Meridian City on Igliak. Erma, what can you--?" As the two news hosts spun around in their seats to face the big screen, they cried out in shock, as did Ratchet, when the camera revealed the robot's head lying on it's side on the ground, a stunned smile lingering on her face as her headless body wandered aimlessly behind her among blasted ruins.

"Hellooo... D-Dallas," she stuttered self-consciously, wires in her neck sparking. "Uhm-m-m-m... as you can see, -ee, I'm having some t-technical... dif-f-f-f-f-ficulteeeee--"

Trying to force a look of horror from his face as the scene was cut, the man whirled around, stammering, "Uhh... unfortunately, Erma seems to be suffering from a... bad head day or something..."

"You say that so casually, Dallas darling," cut in his spouse as she patted her well polished hair plate.

Wondering if he'd offended his partner, grimacing as he had so often, he looked up brightly as a sheaf of papers were handed to him from off camera. "Oh! Well here's an interesting bit of news. It seems that our old friend Ratchet caused quite a stir in a greasy spoon on Kalebo III." Ratchet groaned as an image was put up of him angrily running for napkins, ketchup splotched on his face and hands. "Did he do in some poor unsuspecting diner, or is this perhaps a sign of emerging self-destructive tendencies?"

"Oh, freaking great!" the Lombax grumbled. "Now the whole universe is gonna think I'm some kind of whack job! Next thing you know, they'll accuse me of spreading rabies."

"I'm thinking rabies, Dallas," the alluring co-host remarked flatly.

Ratchet slapped the screen with a furious growl, thinking he might as well get something of use from them. He called up the Vox Facts menu for a display of the political map of the Polaris Galaxy, but this left him feeling disheartened. "Damn it... they have almost half the galaxy. Crush wasn't kidding. I bet a lot of people died..." He buried his face in his hands, appalled at the bewildering chain of events that allowed the Dimensionator to fall into Tachyon's hands, and bring all this about. "If only I had been stronger... been there sooner... none of this would have happened. The end of the Millennium was supposed to be a time of festivals all over. Instead, the whole universe is going crazy. And it's my fault!"

"Now, Ratchet, that isn't true," Aphelion told him soothingly.

"Tell that to the people being crushed by the Cragmites," he muttered sourly. "Who else can you blame for this mess? I didn't even get my _hands on_ the Dimensionator before I lost it! I should've listened to Clank, not brushed him off like he was flaking out. I should've fought Slag when he took the Dimensionator... _and Qwark!_ So many things went wrong..." He shivered with dread at the realization that the steps he took on his path through life really _did_ have serious consequences to them. It was overwhelming, and it made him feel very small, stupid and powerless, his ears drooping sadly.

"But Ratchet," Aphelion insisted, "you've defeated everyone you've faced off against, even Tachyon. You'll just have to defeat him again. This battle isn't over, and you aren't going into it alone. Don't forget that."

The nano-id watched his friend suffering under the burden of blame and self doubt, wincing in sympathy. "Ratchet, listen to her. And stop punishing yourself! You have been victorious in every challenge you have confronted because you never give up, and you have a gift for finding a way to succeed against all odds. And you do not know this, but you will not be facing the Guardian alone. Take heart in this, and know that I will be here to assist you in every way I can. Believe in yourself, as I do, my friend, and you will not fail."

"Thanks," Ratchet murmured with a slowly spreading smile. "I really appreciate it." He looked to the passenger seat beside him, causing nano-Clank to blink in surprise, though he was adjusting to Ratchet's uncanny perception. Then he noticed that his friend was gazing at the box strapped into the seat. "I just hope this thing makes the fight a little easier. It sure cost enough."

The ghostly bot had been curious about the package Ratchet had lugged to the starfighter, sticking his head through the wall to get a look at it, and withdrawing it with a frown. "Well... I cannot say it is too flattering, but under the circumstances, I suppose you did not have much choice."

As Ratchet began inputting the coordinates for the hyperdrive jump, Aphelion began conversationally, "So... where are we headed to..." Her voice trailed off as she realized where those coordinates ended up, then exclaimed hotly, "All right, _this_ one is going to require an explanation. I know for a fact that their food is _not_ four star, and it's not like you can leave right after dinner!"

"I need a hand with some final preparations," he replied cryptically, "something to give me a fighting edge in a big way. Now please don't pester me about it, and trust me." He crossed his fingers as he prepared to engage the hyperdrive, saying, "One more stop, Clank, just _one more_, and then I'm coming for you, for real."

"Or two," he muttered as he closed the door to the darkened hotel room, dropping his bag by the wall. It was kind of a dive, but cheap enough, and well off the beaten path, so if anything went haywire _this_ time, it should take a while before Vox got hold of it. He did need a break before he got into the heavy stuff he knew was coming.

He spotted the ghostly image of Clank manifesting in one corner. At first he was thrilled, but at the same time, irritated that his friend was being so secretive, giving him a dismissive wave. "Not tonight, pal, unless you want to finally tell me something that's worth a damn."

The little bot looked down sadly, murmuring, "I... am sorry to have bothered you." And unexpectedly, he turned and trotted off through the wall.

That wasn't what Ratchet wanted at all, putting his hand out as he called, "Clank? Wait! I didn't mean for you to go!" Clutching his hands behind his head when the little bot failed to reappear, he sighed unhappily, "Oh great... now I've offended _every_ one of my friends."

He opened the door to the restroom, shutting it quickly when an outraged cry came from within. "A _shared_ bathroom?" he grumbled incredulously. "It's a good thing this is a one night stay." He threw the blanked aside and began stripping from his flight armor until he was down to his shorts, feeling a welcome wave of relief when his fur could finally breathe. Then on impulse, he slipped them off as well and hopped onto the bed, propping himself up on the massive pillow as he stared into the darkness.

Alone...

He hated being alone, but what choice was there, with an insane mission like this? He wished idly, "If only... I could be with... the one meant for me... just for a while. Just for tonight..." He wondered again how his dad found his mother, when they knew they were right for each other. When she said yes. How it felt to be in love, really in love. How it felt to... be with a woman, intimately, to feel her with nothing between them. He could imagine her there, a pair of eyes shining in the darkness, but still, he didn't know who belonged to them. "If only I knew..."

And then he realized with a start, they were looking back, smiling. He sat up, gasping, "Who--?" But he knew immediately as her spicy-sweet fragrance crossed the room, just before she did with a youthful giggle.

"Well... this makes it easy." Sasha pushed him down to the bed, gazing at him longingly, as unclothed as he was, brushing her finger along his lips as she murmured in a husky voice, "You look just like I imagined you would. Now..." His body grew tense, his heart pounding in his chest as she lay on the short length of his form, saying into his mouth, "Make your choice tonight, Ratchet... choose me..."

His mind was still spinning from the shock of it all... it was happening so fast! Something wonderful and powerful was building deep in his tummy as she settled on top of him, and he could feel every hair of her body, hear every sound she made as he clutched her tightly. But both of their eyes sprang open when a raspy voice jarred their minds like a physical blow.

"Well, isn't this cozy. But you two should be _much closer!_"

Tachyon was standing over them. They were so stunned and terrified, neither one could move as he raised his scepter over them, the pointed end aimed at the small of Sasha's back, the Cragmite driving it through them both with all his might. He couldn't do anything to protect her, nothing at all, but scream. And as horrible as the pain was, being unable to save her was so much worse; the pain and fear in her voice as she died, the torture of feeling her suffer--

He gave a stifled cry as he clutched his stomach in agony, the pain radiating out from the wound through his body leaving him limp and helpless. But... where was she! "Sasha?!" he gasped, looking around in fear, his eyes refusing to focus for a moment. Something was all over his head, and he fought to get it off as he anxiously cried her name. "_Where are you--!_"

And then he felt both relieved and aghast as Aphelion said to him, "Ratchet, wake up! You're having another nightmare."

He sank back into the seat, his heart hammering in his chest as his emotions seemed unable to settle. "Oh, my God..." he moaned, panting, as he put his hand over his visor. And then the memory of that moment just a short time ago at Galaxy Burger came to mind, and he looked around anxiously. "Is this... real? Am I awake now?"

The ship audibly sighed in concern. "Yes, Ratchet, this is real. Just calm down. You poor thing... you need a break from all this. Why don't you go to an out of the way planet in the Bogon Galaxy and rent a room for a night first?"

His stomach lurched as that was just _exactly_ what he'd dreamed about, and he shook his head emphatically. "No, no... I'll take a break after this. I'll be fine." But he didn't feel fine at all, his nerves still ringing with fear and his heart racing. "How long was I asleep?"

"Just five minutes," she informed him.

_Five minutes?_ "Oh faqing hell..." he muttered, "is that _all?_" And then he screamed as Sasha's blood-drenched body slammed into the canopy.

She gave a feeble cry as pain and shock wracked her body from the collision, her mind numb with terror. 'Where am I... what's going on! _Am I dead?!_'

"Uhh... are you working out _some mission in your head?_" came a voice to her right. It was Busby, looking to her in concern. He was speaking loudly, evidently to cover for her, as she was in the Captain's seat on the bridge, in full view of her crew.

He gave a yelp of surprise as she clenched his hand fiercely, still shaking from the nightmare that wouldn't let her go. "Oh, Busby... I just..." Then she waved herself off as some of the details of the dream were rather embarrassing, murmuring, "Never mind, it was... just a crazy dream." She cast her gaze around the bridge nervously, the eyes of the crew quickly averting from hers and back to their consoles, wanting to make sure that this wasn't a dream too. Realizing her hand was still clasping Busby's, she snatched it back self-consciously, though what she really wanted was to be in his arms, as the fear refused to subside. 'What in flaming black _hell_ was that all about!' She noticed that they had emerged in the open starfield of the Extremis Arm of Solana, wondering, 'How long was I out?'

She jumped as Lola informed her, "Incoming call from... a _civilian?_ It's a Miss Talwyn Apogee."

Sasha's eyes opened wide and she said to the Lieutenant, "Transfer the call to my station." As she raised the screen to chest level and it came to life, she grew pointedly aware that her First Officer was standing just a cubit away, giving it furtive glances. "Uhm... Busby, could I have some privacy, please?"

"Oh, uh, yes ma'am," he said as he turned aside. "I'll just... make sure all the right lights are blinking."

She began to value earnestly having a Number One with a sense of humor, chuckling, "I'd appreciate it, Busby." Turning her attention to the screen, she saw that it was split, and there had been another figure there a second ago, she was sure. "Talwyn, what's up? And who is your friend?"

The girl made a face, grumbling, "Oh, freaking _space_... come on, I want to introduce you!"

A feminine reply sounded like it came from below the desk. "No... I'm fine, right here."

The voice of the computer came next, chiding her. "Angela, stop acting like a child and say hello. Don't make me get up."

"Put a sock in it, Mitzy," the feloid snapped.

Sasha gave a wry grin, murmuring, "Angela _and_ Mitzy. Well, this is charming." Then, knowing she was probably being overheard, she said more diplomatically, "Angela, please... I would like to meet you properly, and on good terms. Just take a deep breath and relax. You really are among friends here."

There was a girlish whimper, and then a few moments later, the sign of a tawny ear emerging from below, then the rest of her. "Ohh... all right," Angela muttered as she tried to get her chair situated. Her robe still wasn't fixed, and Sasha gasped a bit jealously as it revealed flashes of the woman's shapely figure. When Angela realized why, she lunged off camera with a growl, returning a moment later with a pair of slacks, jerking the legs in a tight knot around her waist, grumbling, "Oh... this stupid robe!"

Fighting back a chuckle, Sasha told her, "Angela... don't pay me any mind, I'm sorry. By way of introduction, I'm Sasha Phyronyx, Captain of the Phoenix."

"Pleased to meet you," Angela replied, though she didn't look pleased at all.

In fact, she seemed to be suffering from something, causing the Cazar's brow to furrow in concern. "Uhm... excuse me for asking, but are you all right? You don't look too well."

"Oh, that's why I called!" Talwyn interrupted excitedly. "She let some guy in who attacked her!"

Angela hugged herself, squeezing her eyes shut and murmuring, "Let's not tell the whole universe, okay? I feel stupid enough as it is..."

"Oh my gosh..." Sasha gasped in alarm, placing a hand to her mouth. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah... I'm okay," she replied, resting an arm on the desk and holding her head wearily. "Mitzy checked me out, but... he did use some kind of drug on me. I whipped something up to flush it from my system, but... it's being kind of stubborn..."

"Well, that's something to be thankful for," Sasha told her in some relief, though the dream fear lingering in her mind kept her upset. "But... do you have any idea why he attacked you?"

Her eyes went out of focus as her mind turned back to that waking nightmare, trying to make sense of the fragmented memories. "He kept... asking about Ratchet, saying he wanted to help out somehow... but there's no way that scum had anything but the worst intentions."

Sasha's eyes narrowed intently at that revelation. She was finding Angela to be an easy girl to like, and felt some of that violation herself, angered by it. And now, to learn that he had some sort of designs on Ratchet as well? She mentally declared war on this villain. "Do you have any idea who he is?"

"I do," Mitzy cut in, putting up an image of a blue skinned, eye-patched Saurian dressed mostly in black, and with a red bird of some kind on his shoulder. "I managed to, uhm... peek into some police files. He has a bazillion aliases, so he's going on police records as The Smuggler."

Angela's eyes dilated as she snarled at the picture savagely. "That bastard! He's lucky I only bit him!"

Sasha burst out in some relieved laughter. "Angela, I love your spirit. But we still have a problem; do any of us have a clues as to Ratchet's whereabouts?"

"Oh, I do!" Talwyn said brightly. "At least... where he was a while ago. He attacked a Gelatonium processing plant on Cobalia."

"Cobalia?" Sasha asked with a frown. "What the heck was he doing, attacking a Gelatonium plant? That doesn't make any sense."

"That's what I sehh..." Angela began, then noticed the other two were eying her curiously. Waving them off, she muttered, "Oh, never mind me, I'm still on drugs."

Returning her attention to Talwyn, Sasha asked, "How did you come by this information?"

"I had my computer set up to snoop for transmissions fitting certain criteria," she replied, "and I lucked out on an exchange between a Cragmite commander and a Blarg at the plant."

The Cazar's eyes opened in surprised, and she turned to her Communications Officer, snapping, "Lola! What kind of methods are you using to scan for information concerning Ratchet?"

The stunned young woman settled herself, replying hesitantly, "Uhh... his _name?_"

Shaking her head, Sasha asked Talwyn, "Could you upload those parameters here so my _expert_ Communications Officer can apply them?"

She nodded, not quite able to hide a smile. "There you go."

Still wilting from the Captain's chastisement, Lola opened the parameter list, reading, "_Ratchet, Lombax, feloid, cat, starfighter, attack, solitary, (a)lone_... but... this would clog the system with a billion files a second!"

Talwyn overheard that and said, "Tell her it's a tiered system so it narrows the filters as it goes. You end up with about a ninety-eight percent probability of a substantial match."

Busby looked over his shoulder, murmuring in admiration, "Wow, that's just what I would have done."

Lola muttered as Sasha turned to relay the message, "I got it... implementing it now--" The entire bridge crew looked over in astonishment as the earpiece shot out of her ear, and she fell over in shock as music blared from the small device on the floor. Busby remarked, wide eyed, "Except for that part..."

Talwyn cringed as she could guess what happened from Sasha's reaction, muttering apologetically, "Uhm... sorry, I forgot to fix the alarm..."

"That's all right, no harm done... at least I hope not," Sasha added under her breath. "Lola, put that transmission on screen, please."

"_What?_" the Lieutenant shouted as she picked herself up, wincing as she ran her finger around in her ear.

As the crew enjoyed a chuckle at the chaos, Sasha pointing to the big screen, the computer spoke up, saying in his thick accent, "Allow moi, ma _scromptious_ schickadee--"

"Zip it, Raoul," the Cazar snapped.

"Well..." murmured the computer, "at least she eez speaking ma name, now--"

Several of the crew hissed him quiet as a transmission from Vox News filled the screen. Dallas and Juanita were hosting, and behind them was a startling image of Ratchet running angrily through a restaurant splattered with red. "Well, whether it's distemper, rabies, or maybe just a bad flea infestation, it seems that our friend Ratchet is making a splash everywhere he goes. And word has just come in that, once again, he left the Kalebo III Spaceport without authorization or a flight plan!"

"I guess he doesn't like giving unflattering interviews, does he, Dallas darling," remarked his typically sarcastic robot spouse.

Sasha put her hand to her forehead in dismay. "Now Kalebo _three?_ Ratchet... what the _hell_ are you doing!"

Angela watched silently as Talwyn frowned in perplexion, unable to fathom his actions either. "Maybe he... needed a favor?"

Sasha shook her head. "No, I know for a fact that Ratchet isn't wanting for bolts. He can afford all kinds of favors. It's something else..." And as her voice faded to silence, a suspicion nagged at her, inspired by her disturbing dreams.

"Maybe... he's trying to throw us off his trail?" the girl offered.

"We aren't exactly _on_ his trail at the moment," Sasha reminded her, then chewed on her lip nervously. "I have a suspicion that... well, obviously, this mission is weighing heavily on him. But I'm afraid that Tachyon is adding... psychological pressure... driving Ratchet to the point of instability."

The two girls swallowed anxiously at this speculation. Angela murmured, "You mean... torture, don't you." Sasha looked down, unable to answer.

Talwyn asked fearfully, "W... what makes you think that?"

Sasha shook her head slowly, not wanting to admit the true reason, as it sounded a little crazy itself. "It's... just a hunch." She closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm down, doing her best to banish the multitude of fears and nightmare images which were still haunting her. "Look, we need to get down to business, or we're never going to be within a galactic arc of him. Let's lay our cards on the table, and see if we can come up with a plan of action. And if we're really lucky, maybe we can even predict Ratchet's next moves."

Angela had a funny look on her face as she muttered, "I... have to go."

Talwyn looked up in confusion. "Angela? Why? We just got together--"

The feloid looked squeamish as she blurted out, "I took a metabolic flushing agent so _I have to go_, okay?" Then her demeanor softened and she murmured, "I'm... sorry, it's been kind of a rough day for me. I hope you understand."

Sasha nodded sympathetically. "I do, Angela, believe me--"

"You're both very nice... thank you, so much," the Secsauri interrupted, her side of the screen going blank with the words _Message end_ in the center, then slowly it closed.

"Well... so that was Angela Cross," Sasha remarked through a lopsided smile. "Interesting girl." She noticed Talwyn was looking pensive, asking, "I don't suppose you'd mentioned the Cobalia incident to Angela while I was in transit, did you?"

"No... I know I didn't," she replied. "I was too upset over what happened to her. And... Mitzy is really nice, but you know that computers are crazy loyal."

"I know," Sasha muttered, glancing at the main display. "So... it looks like she has an inside track somehow, and is holding out on us. Wonderful..."

"Yes, but, it also means that Ratchet isn't going off on his mission yet, right?" Talwyn said hopefully. "I mean, she's still at her place and everything."

"Just what I was thinking," Sasha nodded. "But more than likely, it also means that when the time is ripe, she's going to try and pounce him herself."

Talwyn scowled, grumbling, "Yeah... that... two timing...!"

She had to laugh at the girl's expression. "Hey, listen, all's fair in love and war, right? But it does throw a curve into the mix. We might even have to capture her... for her own good, of course."

"You bet!" Talwyn chuckled.

"We're going to have to be as cagy as she is, if we're going to have a hope of beating her," she informed the girl. "And, did you manage to grab the info Mitzy put up on the Smuggler?"

"Oh, you know I did," Talwyn replied.

"Good girl." Sasha called up the file again, looking it over, tapping her cheek in concern. "Well... he hasn't been convicted of killing anyone... yet, but that's not saying much. This guy is bad news, through and through, and he really complicates an already messy situation. I wonder... could Ratchet be running from him? Or does he even know this thug is on his tail?"

Talwyn shrugged quietly, something weighing on her own mind, and finally she began quietly, "Uhm... Sasha, you weren't... running off on me too, were you?"

She gave the girl a reassuring smile. "No, hardly. I mean, it's not like the thought hadn't crossed my mind, and I could have easily blocked all civilian calls. In fact, it's pushing regulations to forward messages across unsecure public lines like this. But this situation... it's completely baffling. I have scarcely a clue how to proceed. I've been reading up on you and your father, and believe me, I need an Apogee on my side badly if either of us have a chance in hell of catching up to Ratchet. Whatever it takes, we can't let him face whatever this menace is alone."

"Thanks," Talwyn sighed in relief. "And then when we do catch him, it's every girl for herself, right?"

Sasha burst out laughing at her youthful exuberance. "You got it, girlfriend." She added to herself, 'And maybe... it'll take something like I dreamed to settle the score once and for all. Not that it wouldn't be a pleasure...'

"Well," Mitzy said chidingly, "that was rather rude, don'cha think?"

"What?" Angela scowled at her computer. "I'm still loopy from... whatever that drug is, and I can't afford to make a slip up around them or they'll be after me too. Besides... I really do have to go."

"Ya know," Mitzy offered, "it might not hurt to throw your lot in with them, at least for now. They do have some serious resources. Besides, Ratchet's got the hots for you in a big way."

She shot a hopeful look back to her computer. "Really?" Then she wilted as her fears and common sense got hold of her. "But... come on, he was _this close_ to marrying Sasha, and Talwyn is really young, plus she was the last one he was with. And it would take a lot to make a guy like Ratchet forget Sasha, and, well... she has _a lot_ to offer..." She heaved a heavy sigh, feeling like last millennium's news. Then she shook her head angrily at herself, which didn't help matters as she was still dizzy. "Besides... I have a lot invested in my plan already. Do you still have that link with his ship?"

"I sure do. It seems like he's been having some bad dreams lately..." she added softly.

Her heart melted with concern as she murmured, "Oh, the poor dear..." She put her hand to her head as it was still spinning a bit. "Damn it... I shouldn't make any sudden movements 'til this crap is out of my system. Hopefully this will do it. Look, we'll talk this over late--"

She froze in the middle of the bathroom doorway, quivering in terror. Ratchet's body was hanging in the middle of the room, a rope around his neck and a look of agony frozen on his face. A crude sign was dangling on his chest, reading mockingly, Happy Millennium Day. The sight began melting as tears born of crushing pain and horror flooded her vision.

It took all her will, but she finally began screaming.

Ratchet clutched at his throat, gagging, his mind nearly driven to the brink of madness as he fought to cry out, "Stop... _please make it stop!_"

It took some doing to convince him that he was finally awake.

* * *

He did make time for a break at an out of the way world in the Bogon Galaxy, but not to spend the night. His nightmares were getting so bad that he was almost afraid to sleep now, and because of how the last one unravelled, he worried that the girls might be suffering from them as well. He needed a break from the tension badly, if only for a couple of hours. He just wanted something light to eat and to stretch his legs, because this next step in the mission was undoubtedly going to be worse than the last, and each one more so as he went. What it would be like when he set off in search of Clank in earnest, he dreaded to think.

He winced as the chief of Odum Spaceport Authority messaged him, hoping he wasn't going to be denied access. He really did need to replenish for the jump back to Polaris. A largish robot appeared on the screen, a bit too much like some of the villains in the Secret Agent Clank vids, a thick cigar jabbed between two equally thick fingers, and with a trace of an unrecognized accent. "So... Ratchet, is it? You know, you have racked up some rather hefty fines lately. How... _badly_ do you require my starport's services?"

"Look... can you cut me a deal?" he sighed wearily. "I can't be stuck here dealing with red tape. I have to keep going... it's really important."

"Well... this is interesting, to see the once mighty hero skulking around the backwater worlds of the Clusters like some kind of hoodlum." Ratchet's ears drooped as he wondered how much he would be forced to beg and scrape for this bully's favor. Surprisingly, he continued, "But... it's never been my business to pry into someone's private affairs who is down on his luck. How about... ten grand?"

"Okay," Ratchet murmured, though he was actually relieved; the price could have been much higher. He exhaled gratefully as he was granted access, bringing the starfighter in on a shallow approach. "I appreciate it, Boss." He managed to admire the rainbow starburst of the planet's sun as it went below the horizon, the nighttime side of the world coming up fast with a spiderweb of city lights peeking through the clouds. Undoubtedly, the people were all getting ready for Millenium Day, their moods lifted in anticipation of the celebrations to come. It was a discouraging contrast to his own dark emotions, and the mental image of a fly heading into a spider's web was disturbing.

There wasn't much traffic out here, mostly freighters in transit for out of the way - or questionable - runs, or light illegally modified craft. As Ratchet made sure Aphelion was properly docked with the supply lines, a pair of feloid ruffians dressed in black sauntered over, laughing in a tone laced with mockery. "Hey... looks like you bounced off the ground a few times comin' in," one of them joked snidely. Unfortunately, Aphelion's hull still bore the damage from their recent encounters, as he hadn't had time to repair them yet.

As Ratchet's ears began burning from the put-down, the other one snapped, "Wanna race? She don't look _too_ slow. Minus the drag from all those dents."

He managed to swallow what he really wanted to say, silencing their laughter as he told them flatly, "You don't want to race me. Believe me."

"Oh, Ratchet, come now," Aphelion said condescendingly. "When have you ever passed up an opportunity to put a pair of twits in their place?"

"Hey, that had better mean a good thing," the first one growled.

"Beat it, you scalawags!" shouted the Port Captain as he clunked over. "We got business to tend to." They obviously respected the Boss as they slunk off, though they shot some mocking grins to Ratchet as they went over to their ships. "Pay them no mind," the Captain remarked as he drew out a card reader. "Their craft are so stripped down, they can barely manage re-entry and hold air."

"That's a mighty high risk game," Ratchet smirked as he drew out his Galactic Express. "Amazing that they can pass inspection."

The Boss nodded, addling slyly, "Ya know... for another ten grand, you can leave the port too, no questions asked."

Ratchet closed his eyes for a moment, his teeth on edge as he swallowed his anger, growling, "Fine." He jabbed the card in the slot, thinking, 'I had a feeling ten grand was too low.'

"Now, don't be that way. Business is slow here," the Captain told him as he pocketed the reader. "And you know how it works: _you_ need to skirt the Law, and _I_ need the money. Besides, I'll cover those fees and paperwork of yours. I know you're a good soul in a fix."

Now he really was surprised, his mood lifting considerably. This kind of extortionist was refreshing. "Uhm... thanks, a lot. I mean it," he said as the robot wandered back to his offices with a wave over his shoulder. The hoods making faces at him as he headed for the port city, however, they could go to hell.

He really didn't feel much like food right then, but Aphelion was right. Eating irregularly and of a diet heavy in fast food wasn't good for him. Still, he didn't feel like anything more than a cold cut sandwich and some soup, and it didn't take long to find a deli offering just what he was after. The alien foods were actually enticing, despite his nervous stomach, and taking his prize outside, he headed for a vacant area in a nearby park to eat. He had to stop for a moment though, gazing back at the deli; at the lights and activities, at all the people going about their lives in peace, sharing good times and laughter, and children with their parents, enjoying the decorations going up all over.

That sight in particular caused him to swallow down a tide of melancholy, his ears and tail drooping as he shuffled off to a grassy hill overlooking the starport. He missed all of that terribly, but most of all, the feeling of being with his parents. When he had realized he wasn't one of them, it was something of a shock. But in spite of that, he never felt any less a son, as if his mother had given birth to him, and when he doubted, they never failed to make that clear to him.

He found himself staring at his sandwich as his mind wandered back to those wonderful days of his youth. They never did have much to give him in the way of physical things, but it was more than made up for with their love. Closing his eyes as if in prayer, he murmured, "I don't know why you chose me, but... I wouldn't have it any other way, than with you two."

He stared up into the starry skies with their unfamiliar constellations, and had that feeling once more that they were watching him. He had never stopped wishing that they were there somehow, and with all he had experienced recently, the questions of Life and Death weighed on his heart more than ever. Sensing that if he spoke, they would hear him, he did so quietly. "Mom... dad... you know, I miss you so much right now... it hurts in the pit of my stomach. I wish I knew where you are... if you're okay. Especially with things going so crazy. I don't know what to do. You always had answers when I needed help, and right now... I need serious help. Just knowing you're there... that would be such a relief. But... you know what I'm facing. What can I do? It's not just Tachyon, as nuts as he's making me. How can I find out where Clank is? And even when I find him... how in the world am I supposed to defeat a zillion invisible... things I can't even touch if they don't want me to? And they're freaking everywhere!"

He heaved a heavy sigh, asking, "Is there _someone_ there who'll help me? _Anyone?_ I never needed it before, but... this is different, crazy different. Would you talk to me? Please? I need some kind of sign, so I'll know it's going to be all right." He patted the sandwich against his forehead softly, murmuring, "Please, something... anything... it would mean so much to me..."

The nano-id was gazing at the miserable Lombax sadly, wishing there was something he could do for his friend, but he was at a complete loss. Just as he began to speak, both of their eyes popped open.

"Why don't you stop talking and eat that?"

It came from the edge of the park, and as Ratchet turned to look, he saw a father patting his son on the back as he began wolfing down his own sandwich, much like he would have done as a child. "Hey now, sport, not all at once!" His own father used to call him that too.

He gazed at the sight in amazement, emotions welling up in his bosom and his eyes growing moist. Then a smile spreading across his muzzle, he finally took a bite of the sandwich, a smaller one than normal, as if his father had just told him that, chewing and swallowing it with a grateful sigh. He looked to the stars once more, a tear rolling down his cheek as he murmured, "I don't know if that's an answer... what you'd call a miracle, or what, but... it works for me." Squeezing his eyes closed as he ate, he said privately, "Thanks, dad, mom... I love you..."

"Yo, don't mention it son!"

This was much closer, and quite familiar. Ratchet got to his feet, exclaiming, "Skidd! What're you doing here?"

"Woah, where your eyes been hidin' out? There's a huge-az hoverboard meet here this week," he said in his curious boarder dialect as he came to Ratchet's side, wearing his typical unitard. "Pre-ups for the main league. You can't miss the ads, they're all over."

As Ratchet scanned the cityscape, he could just spot the corner of one billboard peeking around another proclaiming the wonders of Toxi-Clean. "Yeah... I see whatcha mean," he remarked dryly, wiping the tears from his cheek. "I've been out of town."

"Mind if I pull up a hunk 'o ground here?" the green saurian asked, plopping down. "Been a while since we rapped and all."

"Knock yourself out," he replied with a grin, making a point to take smaller bites so he could chat. And as he thought about it, as much as he would rather dwell on the memories of his parents, especially with what just happened, it was nice to have the company of a familiar, non-buglike face.

"So, whatcha been up to? Hey, and where's robo dude?" He looked around Ratchet's back as if Clank was hiding there.

He hadn't thought how quickly that subject would come up, murmuring with a droop of his ears, "Oh, uhh... he's... busy--"

"Oh wait, don't tell me!" Skidd blurted out, throwing up his hands. "He got a new Secret Agent Clank flick in the pipe, don't 'e!"

"Yeah..." Ratchet muttered through a forced smile. "It's pretty tight security, I gotta say. Heck, I... can't even get to 'im myself..."

Even a reptile with Skidd's attention deficit personality could see, with time, that Ratchet was hurting from this, and to his shock, he found a spandex arm around him, threatening to shake the sandwich out of his hand. "Hey, don't let it getcha down, cat dude. I know what it's like. Heck, when my manager found out that I was, like, all robotized and stuff, he dropped me like a limp salami."

Ratchet cringed back, as that was put rather like some unsavory subject you didn't mention in public. "Uhh, very... visually descriptive, there, Skidd..."

"Oh, I'm tellin' ya, man," he muttered disgustedly, Ratchet edging away a bit more. "He's all over Courtney Gears now like a greased up fan."

Ratchet bit down to keep from crying out. "Really."

"Seriously. But hey, now I'm doin' the freelance gig, so all the big bucks go into my pocket." He thrust his hips suggestively. "I'm packin' a load now!"

Ratchet blinked at him in shock, murmuring, "You... have a way with the lingo there, Skidd-man..." Wanting desperately to change the subject, the boarder did it for him.

"Hey Ratchet, check it out..." Leaning uncomfortably close, he murmured guardedly, "Couldja slide me a quick one?"

Ratchet gaped at him incredulously. "A _loan?_"

"Well, just, ya know, till I win the big one. Ya know I'm good for it, right? I mean, who else set the record on the Kalebo III run?"

"I did," Ratchet remarked flatly.

The reptile's brow fell disappointedly. "Okay, besides you."

He put his hands up, coughing out a phony laugh. "Hey, I'm just yankin' your tail, _Shadow Dude_. It's no problem, really."

"Hey, awright! You remembered! That was good times, wasn't it?" He thrust his hip out, pulling a bag from his pants pocket in a way that made Ratchet cringe as he began pouring bolts from his own bag into it.

"Yeah... 'til you threw yourself right into Courtney Gears' trap," he muttered under his breath, then more loudly he said, "Tell me when."

He asked a bit hesitantly, "Couldja make it about five gee's, dude?"

"_Five thou...?_" he began in astonishment, but when he feared Skidd was about to break into full blown, bawling, ankle grabbing begging, he frowned and kept pouring.

"Oh, spot me some 'o those gold ones too, those are happenin'!"

"Yeah," Ratchet muttered, "they _happen_ for me too." When it looked like Skidd wouldn't mope when he stopped, and at what looked more like nine thousand bolts worth, he put the bag away, asking, "Listen, _Shadow Dude_, not that I'm prying or anything, but if you're rakin' in the big bolts, what's with the loan?"

He replied much too loudly at first, rubbing the back of his head, "Oh! Well, see, this meet is for the... off league... modified class."

Ratchet knew just what that meant, giving him a dim look. "Modified class."

Still rubbing his head, he went on as if it would make it all seem proper. "Yeah, so, like, I got my clean board..." Averting his gaze, he added quietly, "And my not-so-clean board."

"Gotta cover all the bases," the Lombax remarked. "Must be expensive to get into the Xtreme League Championships."

Ratchet bit his tongue as Skidd blurted out, "Oh I'm tellin' ya man, they screw ya for every bolt they can. Anyway, listen, I hate to bump 'n run--"

Ratchet flinched away, muttering, "Would you _stop that?_"

"--But I have to get ready for the time trials early tomorrow. Better set my alarm, jokers start the party at _noon!_"

He shook his head slightly. "Yeah... really pushin' the sleep envelope there." As Skidd pulled a slender board from his back, Ratchet added quickly, "Hey... just in case I'm not tied up with the big _Ess Ay See_ release bash, where are the championships being held this year?"

"Meridian City, man!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Place is like wall to wall chrome! You gotta wear shades in the dark, there!"

Ratchet nearly choked at that bit of news. "Hey, no, Skidd, listen, that place was just invaded!"

"Oh, you know it dude!" he cried, pumping his fist. "The scene is sick with paparazzi! You can't turn around without steppin' on a reporter. And the babes are wicked hot! And wicked! Anyway, be there or be squared!" He fired up his board, lurching off with a cry into the night sky. "Wo-ho-ho-ho! That was _close!_"

"No, _wait!_" Ratchet yelled after the disappearing boarder as he fought to stay upright. "You don't understand... _invaded by Cragmites!_" Unfortunately, all he heard after that was the distant sound of shattering glass. Holding his head, he moaned, "I have just over a month to save the universe..." He looked up, muttering sarcastically, "Yeah... I can do that, sure..." Then, casting his gaze on his half finished sandwich and soup, reminded of the rather striking coincidence he'd just experienced, a thin smile returned to his muzzle. "Then again... stranger things have happened."

He was feeling almost light hearted until he returned to the spaceport, and caught sight of Aphelion. And what had been done to her. "Don't say it... just don't," she muttered bitterly, seeming to visibly cringe.

Paint had been slapped on her hull. He dashed around to her side, his heart beating hot and angry. Brushed crudely on her sleek fuselage in garish fluorescent colors he saw:

PLEZE FIX MEE!

DIS GUY DONT NO *_SHIFT*_ ABOWT SHIPS!

There were extra embellishments, and splashes where there was an accident, evidently where they got spooked and made a break for it. "Oh, Ratchet..." she whimpered, "I was stuck on the resupply dock, and I couldn't do anything. And I thought I felt violated when Angela Cross broke into me..."

He sighed, not needing to be reminded of his girl problems with this to deal with. "Oh, Aphelion, I'm sorry, really, _truly_... I wasted too much time feeling sorry for myself, and then when Skidd--"

"No, it's all right," she interrupted. "You've been suffering so much lately, and when you returned, you actually seemed happy for a change. I'm glad you had some time to yourself if it gave you some peace of mind."

"Yeah, I was, 'til I saw you like this!" he grumbled. "Those punk bastards--!"

"Ratchet, please... it felt so good in that moment, seeing you like your old self again. Listen, don't let this spoil the mood. It's just paint, it will come off."

He clenched his hand impotently, afraid that he was seeing a tragic pattern re-establishing itself, where he was always a day late and a bolt short. "But, Aphelion... what they did to you... it's not right, that I left you like..." His voice trailed off as he hear some malicious laughter half-stifled nearby. Turning and clenching his fists with a growl, he began to head over to where the two feloids crouched behind their sleek black painted spacecraft. He stopped himself as Aphelion spoke his name in a soft warning. Both of them knew he might not hold back if he attacked them. But then, noticing the spaces between were empty, a wicked grin spread across his face. "No, you're right. Maybe we should just leave."

It almost seemed like the ship was blinking in surprise. "Oh, well... that's certainly magnanimous of you."

The Port Boss just then caught sight of Aphelion's fresh graffiti from his office, bolting for the doorway, muttering as he tromped for the docks, "Holy faqing space, those two hooligans..."

Ratchet was still smiling as he donned his helmet, hopping inside when the canopy dutifully opened, and began the pre-flight warm up as the engines came to life. Thrilling to the vibrations in the controls as he gripped them, he said to her, "I think the engines are about due for a workout. Don't you?"

"Am I thinking what you're thinking?" she asked slyly.

"I'd say we were on the same frequency." Ratchet rotated the ship around, grinning evilly in anticipation, and gunned the engines much harder than was legal at a surface-bound spaceport. Hot jets of exhaust sprayed across the area, knocking the pair of overly light spacecraft into each other, and sending the two youths tumbling into the bushes alongside the ramps.

The Port Boss turned about, fending off clouds of dust as he went back to his office with a laugh. "Well now, I think I'm gonna have to wire that rascal a bit of a refund!"

Looking over his shoulder as the ship rose at a more proper speed into the sky, Ratchet chuckled, "Wow, they really are light craft, but not very secure." Just then, he got a message beamed to him, and he murmured sarcastically, "Gee, I wonder who this could be?"

"All right, hot snot!" the youth spat out immediately, the pair of them crowding into the cockpit of the craft, practically cheek to cheek in the screen. "Think yer pretty faqin' clever, doncha! Well next time you're in this system, you'd better hook up with us for a race or we'll knock you right outta the sky! Read me?!"

That got under Ratchet's fur, and he snapped at them, "You know what? You are _so on!_ But I need the name of the chumps who're getting stamped at the bottom of my list."

"Slab, man!" The other pushed forward, exclaiming, "And Crunch! But listen, who you think you're callin' chumps!"

"I think I'm calling you two chumps," he retorted. "Now _you_ listen. I've seen a whole scrapyard of yahoos who think just because they know a thing or two about transfluxor coils and boundary wave channels, they can outrun the whole galaxy." They frowned to each other in confusion as Ratchet continued, "Now I've got some real serious business to tend to, or I'd turn around right now and school you both stupid on what real racing is. But don't worry, I'll be back around Millennium Day to meet you two losers at the finish line. I just hope you don't take badly to humiliation."

"That's some pretty big talk for such a friggin' runt!" the feloid shouted. "So what's _your_ name, jackass!"

"Ratchet," he growled simply.

"Ratchet?" they blurted out together, looking to each other in perplexion. "That Lombax dude?"

"Wow, you two actually know some trivia," he remarked sarcastically. "Now if I were you, I'd make sure those ships of yours are spaceworthy enough that they don't tear apart in the upper atmosphere, and I come back to a pair of gravestones."

Slab swallowed nervously, finally blurting out, "You're just tryin' to scare us!"

He exclaimed, wide eyed, "Duh! They have inspections for a reason, and it's not to slow you clowns down! Now go home and brush your teeth before you lose those too! And while you're at it, crack open a book sometime! You might become halfway intelligent!"

At a loss for anything else to say, the youth shot back, "Oh yeah?!"

"Hey, snappy come back, Slab." Ratchet leaned into the screen, retorting in a condescending voice, "But guess what? I know words with more than three syllables. And use them in sentences. Properly. Now don't bug me again until you thought casualties can do the same."

He cut off the connection, grumbling curses to himself, though presently he began to smile, and Aphelion to chuckle, and then they were both laughing at the comeuppance he'd laid on them. And though neither of them knew, nano-Clank was sharing in the mirth with them. "Oh, you scoundrel," Aphelion said to him, "that was some sweet poetic justice. And so well served! Even though half of it likely went right over their heads."

Ratchet shrugged, feeling quite pleased with his performance. "Hey, I have my moments--" He fell silent, groaning as the console buzzed again, indicating another message. "Man, they won't give up... _what!_" he exploded as Slab's angry face came up on the screen.

"I got just one last question for you!" Then the youth bore a bewildered, almost hurt look as he muttered, "What's a... syll... a-bel?"

As Ratchet gathered himself to unleash on the poor guy, something clicked in his mind, the youth's expression connecting with past events, and his demeanor softened with pity. "Listen, Slab, Crunch... get an education. Restore your ships to a safe condition. Don't mess around, trying to show up some guy who's even dumber than you are. I don't want to see you two in the obituaries within a year. Make something of yourselves, something admirable. Be safe. Life is too precious a gift. Don't throw it away. Okay?"

This was completely unexpected to the pair, as they blinked at the screen and each other somberly for a long, quiet moment, his words clearly weighing heavily on their minds. Finally, Slab murmured softly in parting, "Whatever, dude."

Ratchet heaved a melancholy sigh, saying in as quiet a voice as the screen went dark, "I hope they listen."

The little nano gazed up at his friend adoringly, speechless for a moment. "Oh, my word... now, _that_ is the Lombax I cherish as my friend."

Ratchet's heart began to beat a little faster, when Aphelion spoke up admiringly. "Why, Ratchet... you are a saint. I didn't know you had it in you to treat those ruffians so kindly."

He felt some mixed emotions at her praise, and it was evident in his expression. "Listen... I have to admit that... it wasn't too long ago that I was a lot like them. Qwark betrayed me, and that was it. I became a self-centered brat, and I didn't care that the galaxy was going to hell all around me. When I came to my senses, I was ashamed of myself, and horrified at the devastation I could have prevented if I just had my eyes open. I know, sometimes it's not easy to see that there's a little good in everyone, but I try and keep in mind that... hey, I'm not really any better than anyone else. And give anyone half a chance, they can be a hero too."

As nano-Clank settled unsensed in Ratchet's lap, hugging him about the waist, Aphelion took a breath to settle her emotions. "Well... I must say that... I find all that hard to believe, knowing you as I do, and certainly, your people aren't all that different. But I must reward you somehow for being such a wonderful person, as I'm not sure you'd ever reward yourself."

A blush of embarrassment ran all down his slender form, and he chuckled a bit sheepishly as he gazed out at the starfield, "Well... thanks, Aphelion, and believe me, I intend to return the favor." Then he grew a bit serious, running his fingers over the alien characters on the console, her words echoed on his lips softly. "My people..." That was a subject he wanted to know very much about, but knew scarcely at all. He had asked Aphelion about the Lombaxes a few times, but her memories were sketchy at best, so he let the subject drop. But as long as she was feeling generous, maybe it was a good time for a round of twenty questions. "What are my people like?"

"Now, Ratchet," she began warningly, "remember that my memories are quite fragmented. I'm not sure I can satisfactorily answer you. And there are numerous history entries you can consult."

He gave her an encouraging smile. "I know, but this is history you lived through. Just tell me what you can. Like... let's start with me, for example. How am I like them?"

"Well, that's easy enough. Like you, they are peace loving, kind, generous, helpful, intelligent, hard working..." She chuckled, adding, "Also like you, a bit mischievous, but all in all, quite a lovely race, really. I must say that you're a bit short for their kind."

He blinked as it occurred to him that she might be understating things just a scouche, and an image of Lombax women towering over him like Angela Cross flooded his thoughts, and he shook his head to clear them away. "Oh... really? Well, hey, I can... take hormones, do traction--"

She laughed him silent. "Oh Ratchet, come now, stop thinking Lilliputian thoughts. It's nothing like that. Anyway, what else would you like to know?"

Heaving a sigh of relief, he returned his attention to the odd mechanistic characters on the console, brushing them curiously. He'd been wanting to learn them for some time. "Can you teach me how to read this?"

"Oh, certainly!" she replied brightly. "I can construct a curriculum for you beginning at the elementary school level to the most advanced when you're ready for it."

"Great..." he muttered dryly, "I can go back to first grade all over again."

"Ratchet, come now. You know that with any new language, you have to start with the basics," she reminded him.

He murmured apologetically, "Yeah, sorry... it's just that... I don't like being made to look dumb."

"Now Ratchet, please," she told him assuredly, "you are one of the most intelligent people I know, so don't give that another thought. What else?"

He began wracking his brain, as he found himself running low on subjects he hadn't asked her already. But then it occurred to him what had been nagging him so much lately; issues of Life and Death, and what came after. "Do my people have any kind of beliefs... some kind of creed?"

"Why, yes, that I can answer as well. In fact, I remember the Creed of the Lombax in it's entirety. Would you like me to recite it?"

For some reason, he felt excited at the prospect, more than he would have thought. "Yeah... I would, very much."

"All right." He grinned as she cleared her throat in a very lifelike way, then began to recite solemnly. "The Creed of the Lombax:

Honor the Father, for He did bestow on all the gift of Life.

Honor His Words and Laws, for He is the author of Wisdom. And they are encompassed thusly:

Honor each living thing, for we are all His creation.

Honor His Wisdom by striving to understand.

Honor His Mind by striving to learn.

Honor His Charity by giving to others.

Honor His Peace by living peaceably.

And so to honor Him with our lives, we do these within our lives:

We wield the Law, but do not opress.

We instruct, but do not berate.

We reprove, but do not abuse.

We work, but do not enslave.

We hold self-respect, but not to pride.

We give generously, but not to spoil.

We fight to defend, but not to destroy.

We respect others, but not to the denial of what is True and Good.

And so, in all things; wisdom, and temperance, kindness, and respect, that all sentient beings may see Him evident within us, and to know Him through us. And keep in mind always that the greatest honor shown to others is to love. For above all else, the Father is Love.

This is our Creed. So let it be for all Time, until Time be no more."

Ratchet was quivering with excitement at the end, an ominous feeling settling over him as the profound words seemed almost to seep into his being. He could scarcely remember all that Aphelion had recited, but the whole of it burned in his mind like supreme living fire. It felt like he had finally been granted his birthright as a Lombax. "Wow..." he whispered. "That's so... profound... but, how... how can anyone hope to live that out? It sounds so... _perfect_."

"Well, the way you treated those two hoodlums a short time ago sounded rather like that," she informed him. "Wise, temperate, kind... wouldn't you say?"

The words of his friend Clank came to him once more: _Leave a trail of blessings to all who cross your path._

He blinked thoughtfully as those reminders seemed very true. "Yeah... I suppose it is, isn't it?" The sense of destiny over him, of the responsibility for each step and choice in his life fell on him stronger than ever. But, with this creed to light his spirit, maybe it would be easier to fulfill. And it felt just then as if the burden on his soul eased tremendously. "Would you load that into my tablet?" he asked quietly, producing the computer slate. "I want to memorize it."

"Certainly," she said, a smile in her voice. "So, did that make you happy?"

"Oh... _yeah_," he replied softly, still marveling at this revelation. "I haven't felt like this... ever."

"I don't suppose," she asked leadingly, "that you might inform me what this little trip is all about?"

He still had the ominous feeling he was being observed, and knew Tachyon was never far away. "Uhm... just trust me, please. When we get to where we're going, things will make sense."

There was a moment of silence, but then Aphelion replied confidently, "Very well, Ratchet. You're the Captain, and you have my trust. Now, about that first lesson..."

* * *

Angela began donning her outfit just as soon as she was sure her body was done _flushing_ itself of the drug the Smuggler had used on her, and when she was over the nightmare she had last fallen into. It was so disturbing, she still had to fight a shiver when that dreadful, cruel image came to mind. She said to her computer, as much to occupy her thoughts, "So, is Ratchet on his way?"

"Yeah, so you'd better get a wiggle on, dear," Mitzy informed her. "He's about to reach the jump point."

"Okay, okay," she muttered as she closed the boots on her feet and settled her fur under the sleek fabric of her unitard. Looking herself over in the mirror for a moment, and drawing the cape aside to eye her tush, she enjoyed a bit of self-indulging satisfaction. "Well, I guess it just needed to be worn for a bit to stretch out at that."

"Okay now, cover thug, the clock's ticking," Mitzy reminded her.

"All right, all _right_," Angela snapped, slipping the mask over her face, the electronics embedded in the fabric masking her voice with a pitch shifted male tone as she smacked her fist to hand dramatically. "This time, Lombax, you will not escape my clutches. And then, the _fun_ begins." She caught her reflection in the mirror, _hmm_-ing, and began flicking through color selections for her eye screens.

"You'd better clutch fast," the computer muttered. "When he sees you in that get up, he's going to run for the hills, you know. Now _scat_, before you have to start all over with another intercept! You can play with your make-up on the way."

"I'm going, _I'm going!_" Angela snapped in her thuggish voice, grabbing a travel bag as she made for the exit. "I swear, you're just like a mother-in-law sometimes."

"I have such a thankless job..." Mitzy lamented sarcastically as the front door opened and sealed behind the Secsauri girl. She added hopefully, "Good luck, you lovable dingbat... and be safe."

As she headed for her starcraft, snow crunching under her boots, another sound of much heavier footfalls came to her ears. A snowbeast was tromping up menacingly. Angela pointed at it, growling as she lifted her mask, "All right, Larry, you know who I am! Now go... have a snowball fight or something!" The creatures ears drooped and it turned around, trudging off disappointedly. "I tell you, they're just like big kids," she muttered as she triggered the ships door with a remote. She entered a bit more quickly than she intended as a huge glob of snow struck her in the back, knocking her inside with a startled cry. She shouted out the hatch to the retreating snowbeast, "You just wait 'til I get back, little mister!"

After kicking the snow out the hatch and replacing the mask, she strapped herself into the pilot's seat, beginning the pre-flight start-up routine, almost quivering in anticipation. "And this time, Lombax," she snarled, smiling at her altered voice, "There will be no esscaaa..." Her voice trailed off, her eyes opening wide in astonishment. "Oh for crying out... I have to go _again?_ I just got into this darn... oh, crap, oh crap oh crap _oh crap!_"

* * *

The Smuggler looked around in disgust as the resupply dock linked up to his star cruiser. "Well, if that don't beat all... Ratchit done up'n split before I even got here?"

"Tail's on fire!" squawked his feathery companion. "Don't rest for a minute!"

He looked over a few places to see a pair of black clad youths fighting to get their starspeeders disentangled, as something had blown one onto the other. "Although... it does look like he left his regards. Maybe I can learn a li'l somethin' while I'm here." He sauntered over as the pair became aware of him, giving the rough, eye-patched saurian dubious looks. "S'cuse me, boys... I couldn't help but notice your... mmm... mishap here. Have a run in with a li'l yella cat dude with long ears?"

Crunch began to respond but Slab stopped him, sizing up the slender reptile, and mulling over Ratchet's parting message, he decided he didn't like this character one bit. "Why should we say anything to you, boot leather?"

He gasped in alarm. The Sorlak moved much too fast, even for someone of his build, finding the creature's hand locked around his lapel and his snout thrust into his face, choking at the stinking reptilian breath. The one eye glaring, he snarled in quiet but deadly menace, "Wanna try that again, fur brain?"

Crunch spoke his friend's name fearfully, unsure just what to do. Slab put his hand out to silence him, not wanting anything to spook this ruffian. He feared this saurian with every fiber of his being, but the way Ratchet had been with them remained clear in his mind even in this moment of panic. He had been nice to them at the last, even when he didn't have to, and it had been years since anyone had been even that kind to him. "Okay, okay dude, just... chill, a'right? He left."

"I can see that... I do got _one_ good eye, after all," muttered the saurian, leaning even closer, a toothpick in his mouth threatening to scratch his nose. "Got any idea where he went?"

"He went home, I think!" Crunch exclaimed as they both looked to him. "He was real down, and said somethin' about his mom 'n dad."

"That sound about right?" the Smuggler asked in an ice smooth voice.

Slab stared back defiantly for a moment, but he feared pushing his luck. "Maybe."

He yelped in pain as the reptile spat the toothpick into his eye. The Smuggler shoved him away hard, the feloid stumbling into his companion as he covered his stinging orb. "I trust you two yahoos about as much as I trust myself. But, just so there's no... hard feelin's..." He reached into a pocket, flipping a washer to the flight deck, then replaced the toothpick with a fresh one. "In case he comes back by, just tell 'im that... an old friend's lookin' fer 'im."

Slab blinked through the pain, eying the reptile spitefully as he went back to his ship, the little red bird fluttering to his shoulder. "Ratchet," he murmured warningly, "don't slow down, dude, and don't look back."

* * *

Author's notes

If you played Ratchet & Clank: Size Matters, you might recall a lionoid hoverboarder Ratchet had to race. The last two ruffians Ratchet encountered are distant relatives of his. And if you haven't played it, you really should. It was a good game.

Something which has come up from a couple of readers is perplexion over why the Smuggler reacts so strongly, almost violently, to Slab's insult. Well, in the past, the Sorlek were hunted for their hides, which made very colorful leathers. And some suffer this fate to this day, which perhaps explains why the Smuggler was so offended at being called "boot leather."

I'd intended this chapter to include Ratchet's next adventure, but as you can see, it got _juuust a little big_. Rather than whittle anything out, I decided to split the chapters here, and spend some more time with our friends. Not too long from now, certainly not a month, the saga will continue.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22: Rendezvous**

(a quick note: since you guys probably know what my cleverly re-lettered curse words are, I'm dropping my "swear filter." The upcoming chapters are going to get quite intense, and cute phrases kind of spoil the mood.)

She had a lot of time to think while her vessel streaked down the glowing wormhole passage between galaxies, which was good, because she had a lot to think about.

Five years ago, she had a very strange dream about a Lombax she was determined to defeat one way or the other, which had puzzled her at the time, because the outcome had been rather romantic. Except for the fact that he'd thrown her away rather callously, but even that had an unusual twist to it. In fact, there were quite a few.

He spoke of it being the future, of being involved in a monumental quest of some kind to rescue his friend, and of herself being used as a tool by someone who may have had nothing to do with it, but still connected in a sinister way. He did everything he could, even in combat, to keep from injuring her, risking his own life to save her from a Leviathan. He carried on as if they were friends... even lovers, the thought causing her to blush. He seemed as torn about sending her away as she was, when he revealed much of it to her. And he did make one thing clear; that it was for her benefit that he closed that door on her. Even then, rendering her unconscious, he was gentle with her in a loving way, and reluctant to leave. That part was dim, but he carried her back to Tabora himself, holding her in his arms when he should have simply walked away, stroking her fur and kissing her softly, his tenderness melting her heart. If she had awakened then, there was no doubt that she would have seduced him and used every womanly wile to bond their lives together forever.

And that was strange. Prior to that, she considered him an epic pest. Much too capable for his small size, and ridiculously lucky. Not very handsome at all, with ears that were much too large... more like a funny looking child. And too stupid to realize that he was being led on by a corporate boss who had lost it for some reason. She rather despised that vexing Lombax, and his small robot companion. But after just a few minutes in that dream world, it all changed dramatically. He was charming, witty, handsome, kind... adorable.

And then there were the coincidences. She awoke among the dunes of Tabora, her mask lying beside her. She didn't remember taking it off or, for that matter, being sleepy.

He mentioned that Mister Fizzwidget wasn't the kooky old CEO gone bad after all, but Captain Qwark in disguise. And sure enough, they found that to be the case. They did end up working together to defeat him, and restore the poor Protopet which Qwark's insane scheme had twisted into a monster.

They did end up falling for each other, at least for a while, which was very sad when he drifted away. He was a wonderful young male. And she did get her PhD in genetics, and did become the head of Genetic Research at Megacorp.

And five years later, he did indeed invade Emperor Tachyon's main Gelatonium processing plant on Cobalia. Just like she had dreamed it. Over the course of five years, all that had receded to the back of her mind, but these recent events caused her to remember it all. And in a whole new light.

"Now... I know that dreams can come true," Angela murmured in her pitch-shifted voice, "but _that_ many coincidences? There's no way all that could just happen." Squeezing the controls, she declared, "When I get my hands on you, Ratchet, you're going to have a _lot_ of explaining to do. And..." she added with a sigh, "I'd better hurry, just in case any of that last dream is true too, before Sasha gets her hooks in you. Darn it... why did she have to be so _pretty!_" She drew forth a mirror on a whim and began adjusting the color of her eye screens again, settling on a rich red-violet. "There, that's a lovely color..." Her voice drifted to silence and she put the mirror away when she realized what she was doing. "I can't believe I'm trying to play glamor goon!"

She wilted when she also realized, "Oh, good grief... this means that Ratchet dumped me _twice!_ Of all the rotten luck..." She gripped the controls again, not that there was anywhere to control _to_, but she needed to steady herself. "Come on, Angela, just keep in mind... third times' a charm, _third times' a charm_... oh, I'm here already?"

* * *

Ratchet looked up into the night sky above the rocky plateau, sensing something. A moment later, he saw the telltale flash of a ship leaving hyperjump, wondering if a new load of unfortunate victims was coming in. But there was nothing he could do about that, returning to the task of sorting through his inventory and selecting armor. "This time I'll be ready. All the unnecessary junk is out, and things are in order. Now for... hmm... Helios is a little too light. Carbonox is... too..." The word was _claustrophobic_, but he didn't want to admit to a phobia right now, even to himself. "Cumbersome. What about... Terraflux, or Aegis?"

After selecting a suit, he heard a beeping from an incoming message. Thinking it might be important, he hopped into the open cockpit, seeing that it was from someone named Joe Black. Among the dozens of messages he'd been ignoring, this one had been sending to him periodically. After a short debate with himself, he decided they might be something more significant than a simple fan or the like, taking the call. He was surprised at who's image popped up on the screen.

"Dad blast it, son, yer harder to get hold of than the danged Provisional President!" The little red avioid on his shoulder added with a squawk, "Lombax on the run! Lombax on the..." The one-eyed saurian waved his friend quiet.

Ratchet coughed out a surprised laugh. "_You're_ Joe Black?!"

"Whut?" The saurian leaned back, placing his hand on his chest haughtily. "A guy's gotta have some kinda name fer 'imself, don't 'e?"

Ratchet had a feeling the reptile's real name was some kind of mortal secret. "True... a name says a lot about a guy."

"But anyhow, that's neither here nor there. Listen..." The Smuggler leaned close to the screen, saying guardedly, "I got a li'l somethin' I'm sure you'd like to know about, but just in case, I'd better not mention anything over the air like this."

"And you'd like to meet somewhere to discuss it, and you're sure it's _worth my while_ to find out," Ratchet remarked dryly.

The Smuggler gave him a smile, twirling the toothpick in his mouth. "I like a guy who knows the ropes."

"So that was your ship breaking aich jay," he said with a smirk.

The saurian and avioid both blinked at him in surprise. "Oh... you actually knew that? I thought I was kinda discreet with my arrival."

Ratchet waved him off. "I just looked up at the right time, is all."

The Sorlak gave him a chuckle. "Gotta admire that Lombax intuition 'o yours. So anyway, where you at presently?"

He thought for a moment about forgetting the whole thing and feigning a disturbance as an excuse, but... so far, _Joe_ had proven valuable from time to time. When he wasn't dumping the Lombax from his ship at high altitude anyway. "I'm on Barros. If your sensors are working half decently, I should show up nightside, along the equator on a plateau. There's nothing else in the whole region but rock and dust."

"Okie-doke," the saurian said, tipping his hat. He added before signing off, "See ya in a few."

Ratchet stared at the blank screen for many long moments, something nagging him, not the least of which was the fact that the Smuggler showed up in the same system at just that time. It was an astronomical coincidence. Not that the other times weren't too, but there was nothing here to attract the saurian's money grubbing interest. If anything, just the exact opposite. On top of that... "How would he know what I was doing? And what could he possibly have that could help me?" he murmured aloud.

"That's what I was wondering," Aphelion remarked.

Ratchet nodded in agreement. "But I do need something to give me a clue what to do, where to go. And it almost makes sense that such an underworldly character could have come across some rare bit of information. If he does know something about the Zoni, or anything the least bit related to bringing me to Clank, I'll gladly pay any amount for it. And really, I'm way overdue for some kind of a breakthrough." He looked to the suit of Aegis he'd selected on the rocky surface beside the ship, adding quietly as he climbed out of the cockpit, "Still... better safe than sorry..."

* * *

Ratchet made a fire as he waited for the Smuggler to show up. As there was nothing flammable in the area, he opened a fire brick and lit it, gazing into the flames somberly. His emotions were in a tumult. Some of it was due to the fact that this was something Clank enjoyed doing, staring into the flames as he watched the process of combustion taking place, and the memories were depressing. But the other was the nervous anticipation of the Smuggler's arrival, and whatever surprises he had in store for the Lombax. "Could this be it?" he murmured to himself. "The breakthrough I've been going nuts looking for? Could it even be that I'll learn something useful about the Zoni? Or is he just wanting to unloading some expensive piece of hardware I'll find useful somehow? I guess I'll find out..." His voice trailed off as he heard the sound of an approaching spacecraft, rising to his feet and looking to the sky to make sure it was only one. "In a couple minutes."

He had parked Aphelion in the sheltering hollow between two mounds of stone, with a few stray boulders and rocky upthrusts in the rock fields beyond. The Smuggler settled his ship outside this site, emerging a few moments later as his engines and flight systems idled down. He surveyed the area, muttering as he rubbed his arms for warmth, "I get the feelin' they didn't name this planet Barros because it was a tourist attraction. Now, where's that dag nabbed cat?"

The little red avioid fluttered in circles for a moment, finally stopping in mid-air, squawking, "Lombax over yonder! Plotting an ambush!"

The Sorlek turned to face that direction, chuckling as he caught sight of Ratchet standing beside his ship. "Relax, Red. That Lombax wouldn't hurt a fly, 'cept for those who bit him first. And prob'ly only half o' them." He waved amiably, calling, "Howdy! Come on over, 'n let's chew the fat."

"So what's wrong with coming to my camp?" Ratchet called back.

"Sorry," replied the Smuggler, "but I'm afraid too many folk got the wrong opinion 'o myself, includin' ships. Hope ya understand."

"Be careful, Ratchet," Aphelion cautioned him.

"Don't worry," he replied with a smile. "He can't exactly dump me anywhere this time." He did ready himself as he hiked over the barren rock to the Smuggler's landing site, in case.

As he approached the pair, he realized why something had been nagging him about the reptile. "Say, _Joe_... wasn't that patch over the other eye last time we met?"

The Sorlek looked to his forehead as if he could see the eye covering that way. "Oh, uh... well, ya see, I got a condition that comes 'n goes. First one eye--"

"Then the other," Ratchet said with him. "Must be a pretty_ rare_ condition."

The Smuggler feigned disappointment. "Oh, I ain't found an eye doctor yet could do a thing about it. But enough about that. Yer lookin' well, 'n word has it, yer on some kinda wild, wild quest."

Ratchet's heart began to race. This was it; either the moment of some crucial insight, or just another annoying detour. He looked to the saurian hopefully, asking, "How did you know that?"

He shrugged, remarking, "Oh, a little bird told me." His avioid gave a squeak, and he added smoothly, "Though it weren't him. Anyhow, I heard quite a few interestin' things 'bout you."

Ratchet eyed the Smuggler warily, as this was becoming a bit too conversational for someone who wanted to sell something. But what else could he do but play along? "Such as?"

"Oh... like, you got some serious hardware, and yet, ya still can't make any headway like ya want." He edged a step closer, murmuring in a lower tone, "Say... like a Dimensionator?"

Ratchet's eyes popped open in shock, his blood rushing in his ears, though it felt like icewater. He gasped, "How... how did you know about that!"

The Sorlek fixed the Lombax in his one-eyed gaze. "Oh, come on now, I wouldn't get too far in this universe if'n I didn't have my ears peeled for important tidbits of information, like that one. Ya know... somethin' like that would come in real handy for... folk in our lines o' work. I don't s'pose... I could get a look at it?"

Ratchet took a step back, growling, "You're crazy if you think I'm gonna let you get anywhere near it! Now, if you don't have anything to sell, this discussion is over!"

"Now hold on, ya uppity cat! A'course I do. Just let me get--" He reached slowly into his vest when he saw the Lombax stiffen, readying for a fight, and drew out a folded piece of paper. "This. Just take a gander, and tell me this ain't somethin' big."

Ratchet snatched it from his hand and took a few steps back, watching him nervously for a sign that he might be up to something, but as he simply relaxed, he unfolded the paper and looked to it, his heart racing. And then his stomach lurched as his eyes fell on a single word.

Gotcha

Fast... _damn_ he was fast! Ratchet caught the flash of movement much too late as he made to dodge back, unable to completely avoid the mist sprayed at his face. He coughed as it got into his lungs, something that tasted of an acrid medicine flavor. Almost instantly, his body began to feel distant, numb, and he grew alarmed at how sluggish he was becoming, unable to keep himself completely upright and falling over. 'Oh... damn it, what did he do to me! _And he's coming for me--!_'

The reptile smirked to himself as the Lombax was barely able to keep two feet beneath him, slipping on the rock and falling to one knee. "Awright, you little furball, just hold on, an' this'll be over b'fore ya know--" He blinked in shock as the OmniWrench glanced off the side of his head, his hat sailing, stars filling his eyes as he tumbled over backwards. He muttered through his daze, "Damnation... that li'l bastard's about as fast as I am... when it counts, drugged up or not..." He scrambled to his feet, fearing for a moment that the Lombax might be trying to do him in first, but as his eye found it's focus, he saw that the feloid had vanished behind one of the rocky upthrusts towards his ship. Grabbing his hat, he muttered, "Awright you fleabag... I aim to get that dimensional doohickey from you, one way or th' other. We can do this the easy way..." He drew forth a knife, adding with a growl, "Or the hard way, your choice."

The little nano-id was beside himself, forced to watch this whole insane drama play out, something he never would have expected. He whimpered at the brink of hysteria, unable to think of a solution. "Ratchet... oh my heavens! _You must come to your senses somehow or this will end badly!_"

Ratchet hugged himself to the backside of the boulder. He could hear the saurian muttering dark threats as he made his way cautiously towards him, panting as he tried desperately to fight a losing battle with the drug, his vision fading. "I... can't make it... 'less I do something... drastic..." He drew a knife from a boot sheath, wincing as he steeled himself for what he had to do, removing his left armored gauntlet and driving the blade into his forearm. The pain was intense and he couldn't hold back a cry, becoming a wail of agony as the Nanopack tried to heal the wound with the knife still embedded in the muscle.

"Oh no..." Alarmed at Ratchet's outcry, Aphelion initiated her emergency startup procedures on her own, muttering to herself, "Come on... _come on!_"

The Sorlek grinned to himself at the sound of the feloid's painful cry, having some idea what must have happened. "Mighty desperate move there, Ratchit. Might buy ya a li'l time... maybe." He tilted his ears, judging from the sound echoing around the area of which boulder he must be hiding behind, and crept towards it cautiously, muttering guardedly, "I wonder... where you might be hidin' at." He twirled the knife around in his hand, judging where the Lombax must be and lunging forward to punch him in the exposed part of his jaw. He was stunned when a huge glove came at him with a speed that rivaled his own, slamming into his chest with a crushing, mind numbing blow. He was driven backwards, high into the air, to land more than two dozen cubits away.

Ratchet stumbled away, swatting at the crimson avioid which fluttered around his head angrily for a time, trying to nip him in the ears. His voice came brokenly as he growled, "I can't believe... I ever trusted you..."

The Smuggler raised his head with an effort through the pain to catch a glimpse of the fleeing Lombax, then let his head drop to the rocks, muttering with a feeble wave, "Nice... doin' business with ya..."

"Ratchet! Oh my heavens... what did he do to you!" Aphelion cried as the Lombax wobbled towards her, terrified by the blood on his exposed arm. She had to dip her wing and allow him to climb onto it, as he was too weak to haul himself into the cockpit. "Ratchet, please... _speak to me!_"

He crawled over the sleek lines of her fuselage to the cabin, his body growing limp as he tumbled into his seat, the bloody knife and gauntlet falling to the floorboard. He panted as he fought with all his will to get his limbs to respond, "Safe... someplace far away... oxygen... thirty percent... _hurry_..."

Making sure he was safely inside, she closed the hatch and rocketed away, crying, "Oh Ratchet, please, stay conscious... _please keep talking!_"

He could scarcely believe what had happened as his mind slipped ever gradually into a senseless fog, just able to speak. It all seemed so unreal. "Please... let this all be a dream... _just some stupid dream... please_..."

The Smuggler was unable to do more than turn his eye to watch the starfighter streak off, trailing a glowing exhaust. He ached all through his body, but mostly in his chest where the Walloper had hit him, a tear of blue-violet blood trickling from his mouth. "Damn it to... flamin' black hell," he croaked. "No wonder that li'l furry freak's... so dangerous." It wasn't supposed to go like this. The universal anesthetic he had discovered should have rendered the Lombax too weak to do anything, making it child's play to hold him hostage. He would take Ratchet to the starfighter and ransom him for the Dimensionator. Of course, he'd have to hold onto the Lombax in order to make good his escape, leaving Barros, and naturally the starfighter would pursue. But it would be a simple matter to prime the hyperdrive, then dump Ratchet out the airlock without a helmet. He figured the Lombax had such a good constitution that he would survive at least a minute in open space. It might be a close one, but surely the starfighter would make it in time to rescue him, tying it up saving Ratchet's life, enabling him to make a hasty exit in hyperspace. "A'course..." he moaned, "the execution could'a been better..."

He lifted an arm tenderly to finger lightly over his chest. "I think I ate a couple ribs... damn... 'n no safe hospital within a few light years. Hope I kin... get to my ship in a while... 'n hook up with a li'l... Rejuve..." His faithful avian companion fluttered over noisily, dragging something across the ground. He found out what, as his hat flopped awkwardly across his face. The Sorlek grumbled irritably, "Thanks a _lot_, Red," as he gingerly reached up to settle it across his forehead so he could see, frowning as he heard a weird rasping sound. "Now just what the hell're you doin'... you crazy..." His voice drifted to silence as he slid the brim of his bush hat up, revealing the horrific apparition of a bug-like face surrounded by an energy-ringed blackness. "Ohhh... _shit_," he muttered quietly, then when he recovered from the shock, he dropped his head with a sharp clunk to the stone ground, letting the hat fall across his face, whispering, "Happy place, happy place... _don't wanna know_..."

Tachyon reached down with his scepter, muttering, "Oh my... did this poor unfortunate creature happen to..." He poked the reptile in the side. "_Expire?_"

"Hey now..." the Smuggler croaked, curling in on himself from the painful jab. "Okay okay okay... ya got my undivided attention... such as it is..."

"That's good," Tachyon remarked, edging closer, "because you are going to listen to me. It is important that the Lombax maintain possession of the Dimensionator. Do you understand me?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, perfectly," the Sorlek nodded as he replaced his hat, snapping out the syllables quickly. "And as you kin see... he's kinda taken with that idea hisself."

"Indeed. As a matter of fact..." Tachyon rasped with a smile, "you can be of some use to me."

Those words caused his throat to clench. "Well, I don't know 'bout that--"

"Silence!" Tachyon snapped with a jab to the reptile's tummy. "I need someone within this realm to see to certain tasks. Someone unscrupulous and enmeshed in the unsavory bowels of the underworld. You will do nicely."

The Sorlek blinked up at him, muttering, "I think yer overstatin' my rather complex lifestyle choices just a scouche--"

"Come to your feet," Tachyon interrupted, reaching down with his scepter which began to glow.

"Well hold on there, yer freakishness," the saurian blurted out, his patch flipping up as his eyes bugged open in alarm. "I got a few collapsed lungs--_woah!_" He groaned as some force seized his body, lifting it into the air as flashes of light began sparking all around him. He gasped as sharp pains became stabbing agony, choking back an outcry as bones snapped into place and internal injuries mended, and then like magic he began to feel... wonderful. He held his hands up, rotating them around freely, an act which just a few seconds ago would have been an agonizing feat. He murmured in amazement, "Woah... that's some mighty potent pixie dust ya got there..."

"That was nothing. The extent of my powers are astonishing, even to me."

Tachyon leered at him in a way that made him feel more like food than a potential ally. "So, what do you say?"

"I got the feelin' yer givin' me an offer I can't refuse..." the Sorlek drawled. He wished his little avian friend was around, so that at least he wouldn't feel alone with this frightening apparition.

Tachyon chuckled, "I like a guy who knows just how these things work."

"Uhm... I been around..." the reptile murmured, as that sounded suspiciously like a line he'd tossed at Ratchet from his ship, and he began to wonder nervously just what the extent of these imposing powers _were_. "But listen... I ain't real clear on a few 'o the finer... nuances o' this li'l arrangement. Like.. you got all this amazin' power 'n stuff, so... what the hell you need me for?"

Tachyon cocked his head to the side thoughtfully, as if reappraising the Smuggler. "Very adroit, for a being who has never faced this sort of thing before."

"I'm a... stoic kinda guy," he replied, hoping that if things went bad, he could still manage to be a surviving kinda guy.

"Yes... in any case," Tachyon continued, "even with the powers I wield, I am not omnipotent, and even the most authoritarian rulers need underlings to carry out their will. And I must say that you are quite an impressive fellow."

"Well... I don't like to brag," the Sorlek said with a tip of his hat. "And I know that the preeminence of a powerful figger, such as yerself, is reflected in the caliber o' the hired help. But... just so I'm clear on what's expected of me... just what _is_ expected of me?"

"I want you to shadow that Lombax as he travels around the cluster in his quest, and make sure he doesn't die," the Cragmite told him. He added thoughtfully, "Of course, that doesn't mean he couldn't be critically injured."

The Sorlek made a noise rather like a perplexed dog.

Tachyon went on in growing excitement, "In fact, stabbing, blaster wounds, broken bones, concussions, electrocution, burning, torture, rape, strangulation, dismemberment... oooh, _this is fun!_ The possibilities seem endless--!" He stopped short as he noticed the Smuggler gaping at him in shock. "Or... perhaps not..."

The reptile had trouble finding his voice for a moment. "I take it... you ain't too fond o' the little furball. Why is that, 'zactly?"

"Where have you been for the past standard year!" Tachyon leaned forward, exclaiming as light flared from within the void, revealing every aspect of his form in startling detail as little more than a living corpse. "_Because he did this to me!!_"

The Smuggler gasped in alarm, stumbling backwards in fear from the apparition, swearing under his breath as he fought to reign in his already frayed emotions. "I... can see why that might begrudge a fella..."

"To say the least," muttered Tachyon as he regained his composure. "So, what do you say?"

"Well, hold on now... I'm still... lettin' all this sink in," he panted, still trying to gain control of his emotions. When he felt remotely level headed, he said, "I do gotta ask one more thing: what's in it fer me? B'sides, ya know... gettin' to live 'n all that? That does rate way up there in my book, but... a guy in my position, I'm really all about the fringe benefits."

"I was wondering when the discussion would come to that," Tachyon muttered, adding smoothly when he caught the Smuggler's concerned look, "But don't worry. I wasn't going to force you to do anything without proper compensation. After all, a well rewarded henchman is a loyal henchman. I must admit to you that wealth no longer has any meaning to me, and I can reward you so lavishly that it loses it's meaning for you, as well."

The saurian blinked at him for a moment in perplexion. "Uhh... I dunno 'bout that... I mean, that would take an _awful_ lotta bolts--"

"Come with me," Tachyon interrupted, abruptly hooking his scepter around the startled reptile's neck as a glow began to envelop them both.

"Uhh... can we discuss this first?" he blurted out, but he had a feeling it was a little late for that. The little avioid looked up from where it had been cowering in a rocky cleft. He was afraid of being abandoned by it's master, even if it meant going with that hideous alien, and flew into the enveloping light.

_For a moment, it felt like being turned inside-out, and then something whirled into existence._

Nothing made sense for an instant and he fell down, though the pain got him to focus fairly quickly. "_Ow!_ What in tarnation--?!" As the Smuggler eased off of the pointed object impaling his rump, he heard the flutter of feathers as the fearful little bird flew into his collar. Normally this angered the reptile, but his eyes had come into focus, and he was intensely distracted at the sight which spread out all around him. "Holy... frippin' dooley..."

_Raritanium_... the crystals covered the rocky chasm he was in almost completely. As the saurian came to his feet, he drank in the view illuminated by Tachyon's staff. Apparently it was a cavern full of the stuff, and just in the little hollow where he stood was enough Raritanium to fund quite a tidy empire. And it seemed to go on forever! He coughed out an incredulous laugh. "Woah-ho-ho-ho! Pinch me! On second thought, don't! I wanna enjoy this for a minute!"

Tachyon leaned out of the circular void and onto his scepter with a smug expression. "I take it that you're finally impressed."

"Oh... flamin' hell, impressed ain't a big enough word!" the saurian exclaimed. "You weren't kiddin'!" The little red avioid finally grew brave enough to cower on his master's shoulder, blinking at what the Smuggler was so amazed over.

Tachyon edged forward eagerly. "This is nothing. I know where the treasures of the entire _universe_ lay, just waiting to be discovered! Gold! Platinum! Precious stones! Heavy metals! All you need to do is agree to my terms. What do you say... _Joe?_"

The Smuggler was dizzy from the scope of what this meant, but he still had enough acumen to know the contract had to be closed. "Deal..." he wheezed faintly, then more loudly he declared, "Deal! It's a deal. I'll just, uh..." He drew forth a miner's hammer and knelt down, chipping away at a particularly rich node beside him. "Just collect myself a little down payment, here..."

Tachyon chuckled in delight as he watched the Smuggler eagerly harvesting his nugget of treasure. "Oh, what fools these mortals be. Just dangle a few pretty baubles in front of them, and they'll walk barefoot in Hell for you."

* * *

Author's notes

**Aich jay:** the phonetic pronunciation for h. j., or hyperjump. Likewise, **arr tee** is short for r. t., or Raritanium, as the Grummel mentioned a few chapters ago, and **ess ay see** is S. A. C. for Secret Agent Clank.

This chapter was curtailed a bit in order to get it posted in a time much more in line with what I prefer. Because of this, I should be able to keep to a week or two schedule for the upcoming chapters for a few weeks.

And in the previous chapter, I described a lengthy and rather confusing dream sequence. The confusion part was intentional. I wanted you guys n gals to feel as disoriented as Ratchet, unsure of what was going on was real or not, like you might experience watching an Alfred Hitchcock movie. I'm sorry for any confusion that caused. Well... no, not really. ;-)


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23: Unauthorized visit**

It was a surprisingly short discussion for such two strong willed people. Not that it was short. Rather, Tachyon had to put up with a lot of stubborn arrogance, once the other party finally got used to the Cragmite in his supernatural state. But then when it came down to business, Tachyon explained things briefly and to the point. The negotiations themselves were over in a few sentences. The other laughed, wringing his hands. "This isn't going to be business, it's going to be fun!"

* * *

Darkness... it smothered every thought, but somehow, he knew that was a good thing. He had been running a while ago, and he was tired. Everything in the universe had been trying to kill him, and he was exhausted in spirit as well. He had never felt so drained of life. This was welcome, this was good. If it was death, then it was a relief to have died. At least it was over.

But then something happened, and he wanted desperately to live more than ever. A voice... a shockingly familiar voice.

"My son... you have to be more careful. You almost lost it all. Many people are counting on you... more than you can imagine."

_Dad... father? FATHER?!_

A tear struck his cheek. His heart melted with sympathy. _Crying? Why? Who? Dad?_ And then he saw something, vague at first in the dimness. _Clank? Is it you? But... no, Clank can't cry. Who are you... why are you sad?_ It became lighter, and he saw, if at first through bleary eyes.

Angela was sobbing as she knelt over him, stroking his cheeks tenderly, and there was an anguished tone in her voice he never wanted to hear again. "Ratchet... please, live... don't die! _You have to live!_ I need you... you have to rescue me... I have to be with you! I love you! If you die... _what am I going to do!_ Please... save me!"

It ached in his soul to have to listen to her, crying like that. Only one other time had he been so devastated. _I will... I will live, I promise. Please stop crying._ His words weren't reaching her... his voice wasn't working. His body felt... like there was no body! His heart twisted with the awful realization that he might be dead, and he tried to scream. _No! I have things to do! I have to save her! I have to be with her! If I'm not there... people are going to die! Please! Help me save everyone!_ With a supreme force of will, he mustered up the strength to lift his arm, reaching up to touch her cheek. _But her... especially... my love..._

His eyes fluttered open. Angela's painful sobbing was still audible in this half-conscious state, and he wanted to go back to her, to soothe her and let her know that he was alive, and would be all right. But Clank was there. He cried out in a voice as distressing as Angela's as he stood over him. "Ratchet... oh, thank heavens! _Ratchet!!_"

He jerked upright, alarmed at the little bot's outcry. "Clank? _Clank!_" he exclaimed, looking around wildly for his friend, but that was a bad idea. A wave of dizziness swept over him, making it hard to think, but his panic drove him to sort out this strange mess of fragmented memories as he sank back into his seat.

For one thing, he was in Aphelion's cabin for she was speaking to him, but that was no comfort because she sounded as upset as the others. "Oh Ratchet, thank heavens! How do you feel?"

He stared around the interior hard, as he recalled that he had a few bad experiences when he wrongly thought he was awake. And he was certainly foggy enough with this dizzy spell. "Aphelion... did I get sick? And... _I am awake_, right?"

The ship took a noisy breath to settle herself, as she had picked up a number of his organic habits. "Yes, Ratchet, you are awake now. But I hope your memories return because I have a number of questions for you. I do know that you were attacked. Do... you remember who it was?"

He clearly didn't as he blurted out, "Attacked? By who--?" He stopped short as he saw his left arm. The suit's gauntlet had come off, exposing his arm. _And there was blood in his fur._ He pushed himself against the seat with a cry of fear, gaping into the flooring in horror where he saw the bloodstained knife. Abruptly, he was overwhelmed by an avalanche of jumbled, startling memories, causing him to shiver in alarm. _I stabbed myself... he sprayed something... the Dimensionator! Oh my God, Angela--!_ That was a particularly chilling vision, as she was lying helpless on her couch, wearing a robe and practically nothing else. The Smuggler was standing over her, leaning close, his hand snaking along the silk...

It was a good thing they were on a planet. Ratchet punched the canopy button and lept out to the rocky surface. The top of an outcropping shattered as the OmniWrench smashed through it fiercely, more rubble flying as he struck it again. "I'll kill 'im!" he growled savagely. "_I'll kill him!_"

The nano-id watched along with Aphelion, his hands held to his face in worry. "Oh, my word... I forgot how vengeful he could be. My poor Ratchet. Please, do not forget the gift you were just given." He looked in the other direction, to a small crescent rising in the night sky. "Oh dear, and do not forget why you came here."

"Well," Aphelion remarked, "I'd say he's just about fully recovered..." The nano-id could only nod in silence as Ratchet pounded the rocky outcrop to gravel.

It took quite a while for the Lombax to work off his anger, and when he finally calmed down, he realized that he had to be dreaming about Angela. The problem was that his dreams had been much too meaningful lately. And though it seemed that the reptile hadn't _exactly_ molested her, he didn't want to remember enough to be sure. He was damned well going to pay for his treachery, regardless. Dearly. Those other images though, of Angela crying, those ate at his gut, and he called every place she could have been, praying that she was all right. Unfortunately when it was answered, it was her computer, though she assured Ratchet that Angela was fine and not to worry. At least, she tried to. Ratchet gazed at the screen afterwards, feeling helpless. "How can I be sure of anything anymore, _except_ the worst?"

"Now Ratchet, that's not like you at all," Aphelion told him in an attempt to be reassuring. "And I must remind you that you did come here _for a reason_. And I know for a fact that it wasn't to meet that... monster."

He took a deep breath to settle himself. Whatever it was that the saurian had sprayed him with was stubbornly lingering, though he'd used basic _coffee therapy_ to overcome it, like many people did for hangovers, and it was mostly out of his system. Which reminded him... "You're right. One quick break, and then we're off." He threw the last of the coffee on the fire brick, then went behind a boulder to urinate. Still drugged or not, he couldn't wait any longer. He had to get going.

He also couldn't keep worry for Angela out of his mind, and as he relieved himself, he still fretted over his beloved Secsauri. "Angela... please be safe..."

* * *

The infiltration was easy enough. After all, who would dream of invading this place? She bolted from her ship, brandishing a Stiletto in either hand like they did in the movies, but the area atop the building was vacant of even a single guard. "Well, that makes it easy," she muttered in her deep double-harmony voice. She made for the cover of an air conditioning unit as she put away her pistols and drew out an SW-11, a configurable weapon which could be used as many different types, depending on the accessories. This time, she opted for a precision barrel and scope, locking them in place. It was an elegant, well designed weapon, and it should be; it was expensive enough! Creeping to the edge of the rooftop and peering around through the scope in the pre-dawn gloom lit by floodlights, she was shocked to see everything proceeding normally, with bored looking Drophyds patrolling the walkways, and flying around on rocket packs. "What the hell... I _know_ I left after he did. And he can't be here; half the buildings aren't on fire. So... where the hell _is he?_"

She looked up as a droning signaled the approach of a cruiser, then cast her gaze over in shock. Her ship was sitting there, exposed. "Oh crap, _I forgot!_" she exclaimed, flicking out a remote and triggering it. Instantly, the ship resembled a stand of tropical fruit trees. Smacking her head and cursing, she punched in new settings. This time, her ship took on the appearance of the neighboring air conditioning unit, and none too soon, as the nose of the Imperial Cruiser came into view. She threw herself over to it, rolling underneath the illusion while cradling the rifle as she had trained to do. Unfortunately, she bounced off of her landing strut and had to fight off pain as she scurried back underneath her ship. Peering nervously through the image at the slowly proceeding warship, she muttered to herself, "All right, Ratchet, get a wiggle on! I was counting on you being here! This is no time to be fashionably late!" She crept back with a whimper as another vessel crossed paths with the first. "Ohh... please don't tell me Ratchet is going to have to save me from this damn place!"

* * *

Ratchet noticed that Viceron was coming up rather fast, a stream of plasma trailing long behind them like the tail of a meteor that wouldn't burn up. He asked a bit worriedly, "Uhh... going in a little _hot_, aren't we?"

"Yes I am," she replied flatly. "I decided to burn off that revolting... graffiti those two hoodlums slapped so ingloriously on my hull. That damned Smuggler is going to be the only one to have a chance to see it. It's insulting to you too, you know. Besides, I won't have the characteristics of an incoming ship."

Ratchet chuckled, stroking her console fondly, knowing that was a sore point with her. "Okay, sweetheart, you earned that. I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong." As she slowed for final approach, he tried to get comfortable with the Thruster Pack on his back. Unfortunately, he dared not be without it in case he had to freefall, especially with traces of the drug still in his bloodstream. He could feel it dragging on his consciousness still, as if he'd barely slept the night before. Hopefully the rush of adrenaline from the impending attack would be enough to keep his nerves sharp.

He got an extra dose of it from what Aphelion informed him of next. "Ratchet, check the sensor survey of Zordoom Prison. It looks as if the defense forces are in a search pattern."

"_What?_" he exclaimed, drawing up an enlarged image of the penitentiary, and saw the Imperial Cruisers drifting across the area in a criss-cross pattern. And here, he thought just missing the last hours of night was a problem. "Well... freaking perfect. That's all I need, a jailbreak _right_ before I show up!"

"Well, perhaps this will keep them distracted. I could... creep in at sea level and deposit you on the rocky perimeter," she suggested.

"No, even with sensor jamming and an approach before dawn, they'd spot you coming kilos away visually. Let's do a HALO approach. You attack the cruisers, then ground targets, _and don't take chances_," he ordered.

She knew better than to argue by now. "Very well, Captain, I won't take any chances that _you_ wouldn't."

Likewise, he knew better than to argue back, squeezing the controls as he told her quietly, "All right. Just... remember that I'm a smaller target, okay?"

"I will, I promise." She added, "We're coming up on the optimum jump point."

"Okay," he said, activating the pack and readying himself for ejection, but it felt awkward. The balance was different, and he trusted Clank with his life. This was just a machine... would something go wrong? He dared not think of it, declaring, "Let's do it."

"Be safe, Ratchet," Aphelion invoked to him, just before the canopy opened with a roar and he shot out into the wind-whipping rush of free fall.

The sun was just peeking above the horizon, but it was hardly a cheerful sight. He didn't like this one bit, his stomach in a knot as he watched the world coming up at him with deceptive slowness. He had never jumped without Clank before, and he missed that reassuring presence badly. "This will work, _this will work_..." he reminded himself, heartened to see Aphelion raking over one unsuspecting cruiser, sending it to the sea, trailing smoke.

Little did he know that Clank was there, after a fashion, the nano-bot gliding down at his side invisibly, when something occurred to him. "Hmm... I think, perhaps, in this situation... I might actually be of some assistance." He flew on ahead several hundred cubits and off to the left, manifesting just enough to attract the ground defense sensors. And being the closest target, everything homed in on him.

This wasn't lost on Ratchet as he watched in amazement as the ground fire was way off to the side, and a great deal more than could be explained by mis-targeting. Looking in that direction, his eyes popped open as he saw a tiny shimmering figure in the air, gasping in astonishment, "_Clank?_"

"What was that, Ratchet?" Aphelion asked over his headset.

He wanted to laugh and cry at once, his restored confidence overflowing with his emotions. "Uhm... nothing, great shooting!" he shouted over the wind, a tear streaming along his cheek into his helmet. He watched that silvery apparition as missiles detonated harmlessly and ground fire shot right through it, adding quietly, "Thanks, buddy, I owe you... more than I can say."

Angela ducked as the air above shattered from numerous deafening explosions, accompanied by flashes of blaster fire, knowing that one stray shot would fry her. She emerged from the cover of her ship when it paused, just catching sight of the starfighter roaring past, one of the Imperial Cruisers crippled and going down. "Well... it took you long enough! But, damn, it's so good to see you again!" She began to think she spoke too soon, diving under her cloaked spaceship as the starfighter pulled a wingover, raking the rooftop with blasts of energy. The stink of scorched metal filled her nose as she huddled, quivering under the ship. She was bewildered, crying, "Didn't you see me?! What are you shooting at!" When it ended a few moments later, she scrambled out, yelling after the spacecraft, "What the hell is _wrong_ with you!"

She cringed back against her ship as the starfighter seemed to hear that and pulled back around to hover in front of her. Aphelion shouted over her speakers at the frightened girl, "I'm saving your tawny hide, you clueless, love-struck _twit!_ I swear, the gratitude of some people..."

Angela noticed as the ship pulled away that it was pilotless. Looking behind her, she saw the ruined suits of Drophyd armor in the growing light, remains of the troops creeping up on her. Waving after the ship, she called up to it, timidly at first, "Uhm... sorry. Thank you!" She blinked in amazement as she crawled under her vessel to retrieve her rifle. "Wow... Aphelion saved me." But then the implications of all that struck her and she exclaimed, "W-wait a minute... where's Ratchet!" She raised the rifle to her shoulder to use the scope then drew it back, having the presence of mind to make sure the safety was on, muttering, "I don't think it would be good for our relationship if I shot at my future fiancée." Peering around the sky, she finally spotted a crimson spec zooming towards the prison. "He's... coming in awful fast... and close, isn't he?"

Ratchet was thinking the same thing, as his helmet display indicated how quickly his altitude was decreasing, beginning to glow a warning yellow. "I've still got some leeway, but might be a good time to try out the Thruster Pack," he said to himself, hitting the ignition. And then he gave a cry of shock as a message popped up on his display:

**Warning!** The Megacorp T-100 Thruster Pack requires 50 seconds of initial charge time before thrusters are available. Please take this into account before use. Thank you again for choosing Megacorp!

"That... would have been a good thing to know!" he gasped in alarm, his eyes fixed on his dwindling altimeter. Forty-five seconds to impact... this was going to be too damn close! "Something told me not to skim the manual..."

"Is anything wrong, Ratchet?" Aphelion asked him.

"No! _No...!_" he replied loudly, glad the wind gave some cover for his frazzled nerves. "I'm just... going to come in a little fast. Makes me a harder target!" He added under his breath, "Flatter, too." Thirty-five seconds...

Angela was growing scared, able to make out his face in the rifle's scope as she edged forward, and he looked worried too. "Ratchet, what the hell are you doing? You're going to hit the--" She blinked as she bumped into the roof barrier, crying out in shock as she tumbled over it. The feloid choked in terror, as several stories below was a hard metal deck! She was cut short as her fall ended with an abrupt jerk to her shoulders, and she swung dizzily like a pendulum, suspended over the hazardous drop. Looking up, she saw that her cape had just caught on some kind of utility mount on the roof edging. "Ohh... th-thank God for no-rip fabric!" she stammered. "Just... h-hold on, oh please... oh please _oh please_..." Miraculously, she was still holding the rifle, of course with a death grip. Forcing herself to let go, she hooked it to her belt as she reached up for a handhold. Grabbing something, she pulled herself up, crying out again as it gave way and she dropped back down with another swaying jerk. "What the hell--?!" she gasped, cut short as she saw that it was a Drophyd soldier, plummeting to the deck below. "Ohh.. my gosh," she whispered, drawing forth a Stiletto. "They're still looking for me... oh, crapping _hell!_" Then she remembered that the one she cared for was dropping like a rock, or had been, looking up hopefully for a sign that he was breaking his descent, but... nothing. Just a small body growing closer at an alarming rate. "Ratchet!" she cried fearfully. "_Ratchet!_"

His eyes flicked back and forth anxiously between the altimeter, the descent timer, the thruster pack timer, and the ground, and all seemed hell bent on intersecting at the same time! He realized that he could avoid any structure and buy himself a second or two by landing in the bay, though he didn't relish that idea much more. But having little choice, he glided his body away from the buildings, then began pounding on the ignition, growling, "Come on... _come on!_"

Aphelion called hesitantly, "Ratchet... you _are_ going to fire that Thruster Pack about now, aren't you?"

He didn't reply. Ten seconds... the surface was racing up much too fast...

The nano-id looked over, blinking in alarm, then zoomed to his friend's side. "Oh my heavens... Ratchet, _what is wrong!_"

He held the button down fiercely. "Start... _start!!_" Aphelion overheard this and began swearing.

Five seconds... and despite his velocity, every detail of the sea surface was painfully clear to him. And then as he began to curl up for impact, with scant seconds to spare, the thrusters fired. The surprising roar of the two jets were gloriously welcome, and he heaved a sigh of relief. Then looking down, he blurted out, "_Oh crap_," just before he plunged below the waves.

At opposite ends of the complex, two beings cried out for different reasons, and from different emotions. Beside Tachyon, the Smuggler blinked in shock, muttering, "I... hope that deal is still good..." He winced as the Cragmite rapped him on the head with his scepter.

Just then, Ratchet roared from the ocean, cursing and shooting frantically at a giant sea fish intent on making a meal of him. Fortunately, Lancer fire didn't agree with it, so it sank back below the waves as Ratchet flew in a neat arc to land, dripping wet and shaking but whole, on the deck he had invaded from just a couple of months ago. "I hope... someone, somewhere... is enjoying this..." he panted, clutching his chest as he fought to reign in his emotions, and he knew he would have to pretty quickly. The enemy wasted no time as security drones began wheeling towards him, and behind them, black suited Drophyd troopers. He was smack in the thick of it now, gripping his Lancer and dashing off for the edge of the deck as blaster fire began sparking off the metal surface all around him.

He had to laugh as Aphelion shouted at him, "You pull a stunt like that again and I'll eject you into a sewage treatment pond! Now... let me know if you need cover fire."

"Oh, Ratch--!" Angela began in relief as the Lombax set off below her, just managing to come to her senses and clasp her free hand over her mask, still dangling from her cape in full view, a sitting duck. "Oh crap... don't hear me, _don't hear me_..." she murmured as she grabbed hold of an edge along the roofing and pulled herself up to the barrier, peeking over it. Seeing no signs of troopers, she hauled herself over to land on the roof, unhooking the rifle. "Don't worry Ratchet... this time, you have backup."

Firing back into a line of Drophyd troops gunning for him, he eyed the Thruster display, grumbling, "You'd better damn well be charged up now!" Hitting the ignition and gratified by the tug on his back, he jumped into the air and flew over the bay towards the transfer station, a tower which held rings of prisoners in containment cylinders waiting to be assigned to cells. Whirling around, he fired behind him at the Drophyds chasing after, dropping several though there were dozens more coming, and apparently all equipped with thrusters of their own. He concluded that his Heavy Lancer was particularly deadly today or he was getting some lucky shots in, for they did seem to be dropping like flies. He didn't have time to admire his marksmanship though, rotating back to face the tower and changing to his Swingshot. There were columns of orbs between the ranks of containment cylinders which would give the Thruster a chance to recharge. He cut the jets and latched onto the closest orb. Inside the cylinders, he could hear the startled cries of prisoners peering through the windows, wondering what was going on. "Get down or you'll get shot!" he warned them, and as if to drive the point home, several blasts landed around him as he lifted himself up.

Angela had to fuss with the scope a few times to give her the best view, and had to enhance it since the sun was still below the horizon. "It would help if they would clump together more," she grumbled as she fired, neglecting to think that as they thinned the hoards of troopers, the crowd would be _thinner_. "Don't you dare hurt my Ratchet!" she growled as she picked off another one.

"I can't believe the incompetence of my Drophyd forces against _one scrawny cat!_" Tachyon muttered bitterly on a rooftop opposite. "And one lackey," he added when the Smuggler glanced up at him.

"Well..." drawled the reptile as he sniped off soldiers trailing the others, "you don't want 'em bein' _too_ competent right now, do ya - _OW!_"

He gave a yelp as the scepter rang down on his head again. "Don't be logical with me when I'm fuming!"

"Okay now, you wanna keep 'im alive or _what!_" the saurian exclaimed hotly as he uncrushed his hat and settled it on his head, resuming his shooting. "Make up yer darn mind."

Tachyon glared at his lackey for a moment, muttering, "It galls me to be fighting my own forces like this."

"A heavy burden, I'm sure," the reptile muttered under his breath, blinking in surprise as the Drophyd he aimed at dropped from the sky. Backing his scope out to survey the area, he spotted a cloaked figure likewise sniping from a rooftop across the complex. "Well... what have we here?"

"What are you looking at?" He winced as that scepter came down on his head again. "Stop gawking and..." he finished with a mutter, "keep firing..."

As he sighted back on the crowd of Drophyds trailing after the Lombax, the saurian grumbled quietly, "Better start seein' some benefits from this li'l arrangement pretty darn quick."

Ratchet switched back to his Lancer, firing a burst at the crowd of Drophyds pursuing him, and it was hard to miss as they were in a clump below him. He gave the thrusters an extra burst to avoid the arm of the crane as it whirled around, selecting a cylinder holding an unfortunate prisoner. It was evidently a busy day, and fortunately, the crane smashed through the crowd of troopers below him, knocking a few of them into the bay. "Line drive!" Ratchet joked to himself, cutting the Thruster and reselecting the Swingshot. He lifted himself to the next orb, then dropped on top of a cylinder, jumping over to the next column before continuing up. _Moving, always keep moving, be a hard target_, he knew from experience were key to survival.

His stomach lurched when something grabbed his tail, holding him fast. Whipping out his Lancer in an eyeblink, he drew it back when he saw who it was. "Damn it... Hardlight you _idiot!_" he cried, ducking as blaster fire began landing all around him.

"You come to visit an old friend?" the DreadZone champion called up in his gruff voice as he leaned through his window. "Maybe have a breakout party?"

Firing back at the troopers, Ratchet shouted, "Let go, you moron! Do you want to get shot?!"

"Frankly, sure! I'm gonna barf if I get called to kaypee duty one more time, so some time off in the infirmary sounds like a deal right now!" A bolt landed uncomfortably close to him, causing the villain to reconsider, letting go to duck back into his cell for a moment. As Ratchet rocketed off, Ace shouted after him, "Keep me in mind, ol' buddy! I'll make it worth your while!"

"Yeah, sure," Ratchet muttered dubiously in his ascent, as those words painfully echoed the betrayal of the Smuggler. He flinched as blaster fire ricocheted off his helmet, spotting a pair of Drophyds descending from above. He cut the thrusters and dropped back down, drawing them into the sweep of the crane which took them both out. Restarting and shifting a couple of columns over, he resumed firing on the soldiers below, thankful that their ranks had thinned considerably, and saw that he was finally near the top.

The Smuggler grumbled to himself as one of his targets fell, "Dad gum it, quit takin' my targets." He fired on another pair, hoping he was returning the favor.

Tachyon rasped darkly, "You don't have to take such pleasure in this, you know."

Angela blinked in shock as a Drophyd she was about to pick off dropped. "What the... that wasn't from Ratchet, was it?" From the way it fell to the side, she concluded it wasn't. Afraid that the other two girls might be in the area, she swept over the scene with reduced magnification, spotting a pair of figures on a far rooftop. When she zoomed in, she gasped in shock. They weren't the opposition, but one of them was impossible to mistake, causing her blood to run hot. "Why _you--!_" She fired without hesitation, but unfortunately, her agitated state cause the bolt to go wide.

The Smuggler dropped to the roof as a shot struck the side of a cooling tower beside him. "Woah now... that was a bit too close for comfort." He flinched back down again, Tachyon giving a cry himself and vanishing as another bolt struck to the other side. "Dang it, now _that_ was deliberate! Can't be that Lombax though, but who...?" Jerking his hat off and noticing that he was alone now, he muttered to himself, "Guess I won't be callin' you _fearless_ leader..."

"I heard that," came from a nearby spot in the air that sounded far away. As the saurian moved down to avoid being spotted right off, the invisible Cragmite exclaimed, "Angela Cross?! _What the faq is she doing here!_"

"Angela? The _hell?_" the reptile said in amazement, rising quickly to sight in on the figure across the bay. "Well crap, I thought she looked a little curvy for a fella. Don't matter though, I take that kinda thing personal." Sighting in on a spot near her arm, he fired.

She flinched as part of the barrier edge near her shattered, nearly dropping the rifle as she spotted the saurian too late to shoot. Squeezing the pistol grip, she lunged back up to return fire, growling, "Oh you... it's _on_, now!"

The Smuggler jerked back as the top of the barrier beside him splintered. "Dang it woman, I didn't do anything to warrant this recrimination!" Firing back, he added, "Not that the thought didn't linger a while..."

She dropped as sparks flew around her, rising immediately with a growl to respond. "Hold still, you sex fiend!"

"Damn cat women are all hot-heads!" he grumbled, returning fire.

"Leatherette loser!"

"Furbrained female!"

Tachyon gaped at this awkward shooting match in astonishment just the other side of this dimension, trying in vain to get the saurian's attention, and finally crossed his arms irritably. "Why have my days been like this ever since I encountered that damned Lombax?"

Ratchet made it to the top of the tower, firing at the closest of the Drophyds pursuing him, though their numbers had dropped considerably. There was a control station there occupied by a Drophyd trooper. Ratchet trained his Lancer on him, shouting, "Out! _Out!_" then followed with an angry blubbering sound. That did the trick, and the Drophyd tottered out of the chamber, stumbling backwards and toppling over the edge. He knew it wasn't over by a long shot, tossing out a few Mega-turrets to handle anyone trying to get to him and hurrying into the station. He left the door open because the fishy smell was rather thick, producing his Decryptor. He had changed the hacking symbology to the switch matrix used by his Trespasser, as the one he found on it, the tilting puzzle, was hard to master when he was being shot at. And he had a feeling that problem wasn't far away.

As he guessed, the switch matrix was huge, but he had practiced on very hard simulations. After a couple of bad starts he came to grips with the complexity, beginning to defeat the layers of prison security. As the Mega-turrets began firing on troops attempting to assault the tower, he reached over with his foot to close the door, in case a stray shot made it that direction. "Finally!" he shouted in jubilation. "See... see... yeah, he's here, now where...?" He blinked in shock. "Here on the _tower?_ Oh crap, and in the transfer queue--!" He got out of the Decryptor and stood over the tower control panel. "Maintenance shutdown... _maintenance shutdown... where-?!_" Finally he spotted it, pounding the button with his fist, heaving a sigh of relief as the two cranes ground to a halt. Peeking back into the Decryptor, he found the right containment cylinder, disabling the lock, then ducked when the window behind him shattered. "Crapping _hell_," he panted, looking up to see that his turrets were almost depleted. "Great.. back to work," he muttered, kicking open the door and blasting the Drophyds which emerged over the tower's edge.

In the distance, he could hear the prison's director notifying the station that security had been hacked and to secure all prisoners. The remaining Drophyds broke off the attack and flew back to the main structure. "Good! That should keep 'em tied up. Uhh... glad I thought of it," he added with a grin as he keyed his communicator, thinking he must have overdone the unlock routine.

The nano-id coughed in mock dismay at his side. "You are _welcome._ Honestly, Ratchet, you are not in top form these days."

"Aphelion, is the airspace secure? I need you at the transfer tower in a minute," the Lombax informed her. "After extraction, we're outta here."

"Oh, good." Aphelion said in relief, and he knew it wasn't for her sake. "Yes, all cruisers are downed. I'm just mopping up ground defenses."

In the distance, he could hear the sound of the starfighter making strafing runs. "Great job! When we get done here, you're getting whatever tune up you want."

"You know just how to tickle a girl's fancy, don't you?" she giggled. "All right, be there shortly."

He chuckled as she signed off, "Whatta woman--" He choked himself off as he heard the sound of a shot being fired, dropping instinctively to the roof of the tower, but looking around, nothing hit. "Is he the worst sniper in the universe?" Then he caught another shot coming from the opposite side of the installation, then the first one, as if in answer. He looked around the area in confusion. "Are they... shooting at _each other?_"

"Just wait... I'll get you yet, you blue skinned lecher!"

"Damn women always gotta have the last say!"

"Oh my word," nano-Clank murmured in shock. "Angela Cross! And..." He trotted to the other side of the tower roof, muttering, "_Joe Black_. But... they do not seem to be shooting very accurately..." He noticed to his bemusement that the barriers around the two rooftops were perforated with dozens of holes.

Rising cautiously to his feet, Ratchet muttered, "I'll just... leave them to sort that all out." Jumping over the edge, he eased himself down using the Thruster Pack, hovering along one row and steering himself around it. "Eight two nine, eight two nine... oh, there it is!" He was one row too high, landing on the top of the containment cylinder as the other inmates began shouting in the silence, demanding to know the goings-on. He smirked as he made out Ace Hardlight's among them, still asking for a ride. He peered over the edge, calling, "Slim? Slim Cognito?" Through the rectangular window, he thought he could see the edge of a cylinder within the cylinder.

From inside came a familiar voice. "Woah... _Ratchet?_ So, it is you! I should'a known. No one makes an entrance quite like you do."

"To say the least," he muttered, recalling how badly it went. He lowered himself to the door pad, punching it open and swinging inside. Sure enough, they had incarcerated Slim cylinder and all. Would he ever show his face?

The familiar pairs of orbs gazed at him through the slot almost fondly for a moment. "Man, are you a sight for, uh... sore eyes. Pardon the pun."

"Listen, we can reminisce later," Ratchet said as a roar outside signaled Aphelion's arrival. "I need your help."

The two eyes seemed to give him a droll grin. "Well, it's always nice to be needed."

"So, get out of that thing and let's go!" Ratchet told him urgently.

"Uhhhm..." he drawled out, and Ratchet had a sinking feeling at what he was going to say. "No."

"Why?" he exclaimed. "What's in there, your damned workshop?!"

"Uhh..." the pair of eyes nodded, "you could... put it that way..."

Ratchet glared at him as he manifested his Tractor Glove, muttering, "When this is over, we're going to have to discuss why this was so necessary."

"I'm right outside, Ratchet," Aphelion informed him, and she was clearly visible outside the door.

Ratchet activated the glove, moving the cylinder towards the opening. "Uhh... we're going to have some... extra luggage..."

"So I see," she remarked dryly as she wheeled around to put the passenger seat below the door. "I just hope it fits."

"Hey, are you sayin' I'm big for my size or somethin'?" Slim quipped at her.

Ratchet grinned as he edged Slim's container forward. "You could put it that - _hey!_" He yelped in shock as the cylinder plummeted over the door, dragging him over with it, landing in the flight seat with a crash. He had the misfortune to fall helmet first into the cylinder, wincing as stars flooded his consciousness and he toppled over to the side.

"And I thought prison food wasn't supposed to be fattening," Aphelion muttered.

"Hey now, be nice," the illicit modder began, "yer packin' a few tons too--"

"Ratchet, are you all right?" Aphelion interrupted in concern. It took a lot to knock him out, and he seemed quite dazed.

"Yeah," he groaned, rubbing his helmet gingerly as if that would help as he got to his knees. "Just... gimme a minute. And here... I thought this would be eas..." He fell silent as his eyes slowly opened, thinking he heard something; a rumble, growing louder. "Do... you guys hear that too?"

"Uhh... not if ya don't want me to," Slim muttered. Aphelion shushed him and he added, "Hey, I'm just tryin' to ease the tens--"

"Hush!" she ordered, and he resignedly fell silent.

Angela and Joe dropped their haphazard duel when the rumble became hard to ignore. "What is that?" she whispered, peering into the distance, but could see nothing around the buildings.

"If I were you," Tachyon advised the Smuggler, "I would go to the far end of this building and stay there until this is over. It is liable to get messy."

He nodded, edging away. "Don't need to tell me somethin' like that twice."

Then they all froze as over the speakers came the voice of the prison director. "All Drophyd troopers are ordered to seek immediate shelter. I suppose... all Blargian and other employees can as well." At their stations around the complex, the Grummels sealed themselves up tight. The rumble was becoming a distant roar, coming closer.

The hairs of Ratchet's fur were trying their best to stand on end all over his body. "I have a feeling... this is bad, really bad." Something urged him to scope it out himself first, and he told Aphelion, "Get down, lay low." With that, he rocketed to the top of the transfer tower.

"No, Ratchet!" Aphelion called up to him anxiously. "Let's just go!"

He had a feeling that if he didn't do something about what was coming, they wouldn't be going anywhere, except possibly down in flames, and said as much to the starfighter. "What's showing up on your sensors?" It sounded like it was coming from behind the main prison building. The sun was up now. Whatever it was would be seen clearly.

"I don't have anything definite, but it's large," she replied, urging him to leave. "Come on, Ratchet, you know how fast I am."

He shook his head as if she could see him, producing his Raptor as he eyed the skyline behind the main building. "Take Slim behind the storage facility, and stay low."

The modder looked to Aphelion's console. "You know how he can be."

"Oh, do I ever," she muttered, beginning to close the cockpit. It stopped before sealing though; Slim's capsule was too tall, tapping against the edge as she tried to force it. "Oh, bother... uhm... tuck your feet in."

He gave her a dim look. "Uh, sweetheart... does it look like I'm in a position to tuck _anything?_" The canopy opened and he gave a gasp of surprise as the starfighter began heaving up and down, intending to settle him lower in the cockpit. "Oh, hey, hold on! Give a guy some warn... oh, look at this mess--" He gagged in alarm as he feared he would bounce out, catching a good look at what lay below; the treacherously deep waters of Zordoom Bay. "Woah! Hey! Listen babe, I hope you realize this thing makes a really lousy swimsuit!"

"Quit playing around and go!" Ratchet hissed, feeling a little better as Aphelion gave an affirmation and drifted off just above the waters. But now he had to face whatever this was alone, gripping his missile launcher tightly as the rumble became a roar like a rocket lifting off. It had to be a pretty serious threat to have the place evacuated, and he knew the tower control station would provide no protection.

The Smuggler spotted it first, his curiosity getting the better of him, cursing soundly as he watched it approach in the scope of his rifle. "What the hell... what's Ratchet s'posed to do against that!"

Angela saw it next, running to the far end of the building to bring it into view, gasping in alarm. She didn't care now if the Lombax saw her or not, crying as loudly as she could, "Ratchet! _Get away! GO!_"

The noise of it's approach was too loud, swallowing her outcry before it got halfway to him. He watched the edge of the building as it finally came into view, and his eyes bugged open as it kept coming. No wonder the roar was so loud... it was _huge!_ It was the largest warmech he had ever seen, borne on massive jets of rocket fire. He cried incredulously, "What in flaming _hell?!_" The pilot evidently saw his expression as laughter roared over speakers, cruel, hateful... and chillingly familiar. A shiver ran through him as it was unmistakable. But _how!_ "No way... there's no frigging way!"

"It's always a pleasure to be recognized by an _old friend_," said Chairman Drek mockingly, his voice echoing from the surroundings. He stopped the mech across the bay to face off with the Lombax. "Especially after all these years."

"How..." Ratchet gasped, then in a shout, he repeated, "How! You were killed by your own planet destroyer!"

"As you can see, news of my impending demise was greatly exaggerated," the little tyrant replied. "And I intend to keep it that way."

As Ratchet fought to get hold of himself, he began to think through the shock of it, and knew there could be only one answer. "Of course... Tachyon rescued you!"

Drek coughed out a syllable of laughter. "Well, you two must have quite a rivalry going. But yes, that weird little Cragmite did indeed pluck me from the world I created just before _you_ blew it up, you idiot!" Ratchet could see him leaning forward in his seat in anger at the memory. "All that work to create the perfect planet, all those potential profits, wasted in a childish moment of thoughtless destruction! I hope the debris you made of it rained down to devastate that worthless dustball you're so fond of!"

"What difference does it make!" Ratchet shouted back. "You were going to destroy it yourself later anyway! And right out from under your own people!"

"Oh, now you're quibbling over process. I can't expect a simple Lombax to understand the intricate details of such a well designed business venture." Drek added heatedly, "Or the profits that you vaporized with it!"

Some of the Blarg were watching this drama play out from the prison building, stunned at what they overheard. One of them muttered, "I can't believe I supported that guy..." The others could only nod in mute agreement.

"So what are you here for!" Ratchet shouted at the Chairman. "Vengeance?"

"I like an opponent who gets down to business," Drek said much too cheerfully, wiggling his fingers in anticipation. "Revenge is the great amortizer. I'd say it's time to begin the proceedings. After all, time is money, and both are being wasted!"

Ratchet gasped in alarm, firing the thrusters to rocket off as he saw tracer fire begin to track him, and missiles behind that. He dove from the tower, hoping to draw the mech away, as even though it was full of criminals, they didn't deserve the sudden death inflicted on them if he remained there. His heart wilted as he heard explosions behind him. "You bastard! You don't care who you kill, do you!"

He was cut short by the derisive sound of laughter over the mech's speakers. "So, you still value the lives of innocents, even if they happen to be convicted criminals? How predictably compassionate of you!"

Tachyon appeared beside the mech's cockpit, exclaiming, "What do you think you're doing! Those are some of my most valuable prisoners!"

He squeaked and vanished as Drek swept the mech's arm at the Cragmite. "Don't bother me when I'm in the middle of business, you overgrown flea!"

"I have to get away from the prisoners!" Ratchet cried, cutting back his jets to lower himself towards the shuttle rails and activating his boot grind plates. "At least no one's out here, and it's not like I haven't done this dozens of times before."

Aphelion had a good idea what was going on from what she'd overheard and accelerated into the sky. Slim looked to the console, muttering, "Ratchet ordered you to stay put..."

"Are you going to be supportive, or do you want to get dumped in the bay?" she asked curtly.

The options seemed pretty clear. "Uh, team player all the way, babe." He held his stomach as the ship lunged forward.

"Don't call me that," she snapped, to which he could only nod in reply.

Angela recognized the sound of Aphelion's engines behind her, focusing on the wretched pilot of the mech. In the slow moving craft, he was practically a sitting target. "All right, you monster, time to finish what Ratchet started!" She charged up the rifle fully, and squeezed the trigger, the weapon giving a hefty report.

Drek flinched back as a bolt scorched a spot on his cockpit viewshield, turning to face the direction it had come from, spotting Angela through a monitor on the supply building roof. "Well, I didn't know Ratchet had a supporting staff here. But it's time to sever that arrangement _permanently!_"

Angela didn't care to see the aftermath, rising to watch the mech falter without someone to control it. But she was astonished to see it continuing on; in fact, turning in her direction. "Ohh, _shit_..." She began running for her life as gatling shells and missiles began to make a mess of the roof, trailing behind her but closing in, crying in terror. "Ratchet, _please save me!_"

He noticed that Drek's attention was diverted and wondered why, grinding to a halt to look. He spotted some poor fool on a rooftop opposite, making a mad dash as explosions erupted behind them. For whatever reason, they had to be helping him. He couldn't let them die in any case. Training his Raptor missiles on the mech at seemingly point blank range, as large as it was, he was disheartened to see yellow in the display as they locked on. This meant no perceived weak points, but he had to distract the Blarg. Firing, he shouted, "Please cause _some _damage!"

Drek gave a startled yelp as explosions erupted all around the cockpit, but the armor held easily. Turning back to his attacker, he grumbled, "So, that one is important after all. I'll deal with them presently, after I settle affairs with you!" He gasped in shock as blasts of energy rang off his mech's armor, looking up as the starfighter screamed overhead. "Deploying all your assets, Lombax? You'll see that it will do you no good!"

"Get out of here!" Ratchet cried to the ship. "_Go!_" He dug his grind plates into the metal and skated off, trailing sparks, as the arm of the mech smashed through the rail where he had been just a second ago. It was uncanny how like this was to his battle with the Kerchu mech. Unfortunately, this one seemed invulnerable! He doubted Aphelion would listen, switching to the Judicator missile. "This did some damage to Lawrence... for pity's sake, do something _now!_"

"Not a scratch!" Aphelion whimpered. "Maybe if I dropped a mine on him..."

"Uhh... you'll prob'ly take Ratchet out too, if it's strong enough to damage that mech," Slim cautioned her. "Looks like Duralloy armor galvanized with Raritanium, and a cockpit viewshield forged of a single hybrid diamond-Raritanium crystal. Just my professional opinion, a'course."

She had opened the channel when the modder began his assessment. "Did you hear that, Ratchet?"

He swallowed as he dodged another blow from the mech. That was about the strongest protection available, much too expensive for common military use. "Stay out of this! I'll figure something out!"

Angela stopped at the opposite end of the building where her ship was parked, panting in both fear and relief, but watching anxiously as the dreadful struggle between the two combatants played out in the middle of the bay. And it didn't seem like Ratchet was doing much more than going in circles. She whispered prayerfully, "Please... help him, someone... don't let him die..."

The nano-id paused beside the feloid to make sure she was all right, just as frightened as she was. "Good heavens... there _must_ be a solution, but what could it be!" He flew off to inspect the warmech directly.

Drek roared with laughter as he smashed the shuttle rail with the arm of his mech once more, missiles tracking Ratchet on top of that, and getting just a bit closer each time. "Oooh, this is fun, ruining someone else's real estate for a change! And drawing out my revenge to boot--!" He stopped short as he saw a trail of smoke, giving a frightened cry when his mech was jarred by a severe explosion. Grabbing the controls, his ears still ringing from the blast, he growled, "I must admit, I felt that even in this shielded cockpit, Lombax. That's more like it. But if that's all you've got, you're just prolonging the inevitable. Soon, your account will be closed!"

"I can't believe this," Ratchet groaned in disbelief. "It hardly did more than scratch the paint! But right now, at least it knocks him around." He unleashed another missile as he jumped, dodging another strike from that massive arm. He scrambled to think through the fear, adrenaline and lingering drug effects; of the threat, of the area layout, of the tools he had available. Looking overhead as he began a second loop on the rail, a plan gelled. "Aphelion, I need you after all. Make another pass, and you have to time this just right..."

Drek cringed in his seat as another missile streaked at him, crying out from the jarring explosion that rang all through the war machine. Shaking his head to clear it, he raised the mech's arm to strike again. "You're beginning to get on my nerves, Lombax! But you're running out of railing, and soon, ammunition! What will you do then--?" He looked to his console as a warning beeped, indicating incoming aircraft. "Oh, please, what do you hope to accomplish this time?" He watched in surprise as the blaster fire from the starfighter flashed overhead harmlessly, giving a derisive laugh. "Why, that has to be the worst shooting I've ever..." Then he faltered as something overhead began to drop, and saw that they were high voltage power lines, muttering, "Oh, crap." It was all he could get out before the thick cables dropped across his mech. He flinched away as electricity arced across his console, even with all the cockpit insulation. He touched the controls hesitantly, gasping in pain as the current jumped along his arm, but he had no choice, trying to force the mech's arm up to sweep the deadly cables off. "Blasted... _clever...!_" he growled, feeling confidence return as the mech responded, if erratically.

Ratchet knew he had to be quick if this was going to work, summoning the RYNO. Hitting his thrusters and jumping into the air, he oriented himself carefully and fired the multi-barreled rocket launcher. Drek cried out in fear as he remembered that deadly attack which finished off his other mech, curling in on himself as the swarm of rockets impacted against the armor in a hail of endless explosions. But opening an eye, he laughed in near hysterical relief. "I told you, Lombax! This warmech is nearly invulnerab..." His voice trailed to silence as the smoke began to clear, and in the distance, he saw a light. "What the devil is that?"

Ratchet steadied himself on the deck where he'd landed, charging the Alpha Cannon to it's maximum, and kept charging. A warning alarm went off: one hundred five percent capacity... _one ten_... He grit his teeth as the weapon began to grow hot, an unnerving glow beginning to form along the barrel. This was it, all or nothing. If this didn't stop Drek, he had to hope they could escape. "Work... _please_ work!" he cried, firing. He gave a frightened yelp as it sounded ready to explode, but it held together, and he ran the beam right through the cockpit.

Drek cried out in fear as the disturbing sound and the tang of vaporized metal filled the cockpit. He had to shield his eyes, as it was as blinding as the sun. "What the hell _is_ that!" he exclaimed. "An ion cannon?!" Suddenly the chamber filled with unbearable heat and light.

Ratchet dropped the Alpha Cannon to the deck as it sizzled threateningly, blinking as the heat from the barrel caused the metal plate to smoke, but his attention focused back on that mech, watching it anxiously. One sign of movement, and they would have to make a desperate break for it, but he was elated to see it drop into the bay. It caused quite a wave as it rested on it's base in the water, a glowing orange gash in the hull, the depleted power cables slipping from it as the electricity was cut off. Suddenly, Aphelion shot past and there was a silent dazzling glare; to make doubly sure, she had dropped a mine on the war machine. Ratchet braced and threw his arms up to shield his face against the blast as it roared through a second later in a deafening concussion wave. When he could open his eyes, he saw the mech collapse against the side of a tall pillar of rock rising from the bay, a mushroom cloud billowing from it as the explosion continued to reverberate throughout the area. It finally looked dead, like a fallen warrior.

At their stations around the prison, the Grummels emerged, swearing in astonishment at the devastating victory. From within the complex itself, those few creatures brave or crazy enough came out or peered through shattered windows to see for themselves.

The Smuggler blinked at the defeated mech in astonishment, cursing under his breath. "That damn Lombax is a one man wreckin' crew. Just amazin'..."

Tachyon reappeared beside him, grumbling, "You don't have to sound so happy about it! That was nothing."

He looked up to the Cragmite, remarking sarcastically, "Ya know, boss, you _did say_ that ya wanted the Lombax to live. You sure got a funny way o' showin' it."

"It's a _game_, Joe," Tachyon snarled. "A very complicated, meaningful... _serious_ game. Yes, I want Ratchet to live. But that _doesn't_ mean that he has to make it through my ordeals without some sort of suffering! And I'm growing tired of him winning so easily!"

The Smuggler shook his head in sympathy, muttering to himself, "You call _that_ easy?"

Angela gaped at the sight in amazement herself, whispering lovingly, "Oh, Ratchet, thank heavens... I don't know how you do it, but you always win. You wonderful, beautiful... _idiot!_ What are you doing!"

As much contempt as Ratchet had for Drek, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving the Blargian dictator in that ruined mech if he was still alive. He flew onto the shuttle rails, jumping the gaps and following it out to where he could use the Thruster Pack to cross over without it depleting on him.

"Ratchet," Aphelion called to him, "what are you doing?" Being a battle craft, her thinking was oriented towards achieving victory, and leaving it at that.

"I have to see if he's still alive," he replied, sounding adamant.

"Is that a good idea?"

"Probably not," he admitted, "but I'm going anyway." Bits of the Lombax Creed were echoing in his consciousness. He would have done this regardless, but the Creed made it seem more imperative.

"I'll... keep watch over the area," she sighed, beginning to orbit the bay.

It looked terrible, a deep gash melted in the mech's front from the Alpha Cannon's supercharged beam, and still glowing from the energy that had vaporized it open. The sides bore evidence of the punishing blast of the mine Aphelion had dropped, it's drab paint blasted away, and the armored hull cracked like an egg. Smoke poured forth from the internal damage, the systems hissing and sputtering, but what held Ratchet's attention was the cockpit. The shield was fractured away between the beam and the mine blast, and the morning sun revealed a pilot that had suffered a terrible fate. Along with the deep rumble from the mine which seemed to go on forever, sirens wailed mournfully in the distance. The stink of metal, fluids, plastic and burned flesh assaulted his nostrils, and the whole of it all filled him with a morbid dread. He alighted on the mech's shoulder, leaning in to the cockpit, and gasped in shock from what he saw up close.

Drek was still alive, barely, having suffered terrible burns from the particle beam's destructive force. But he had the presence of mind to glare at Ratchet angrily, croaking in a broken voice, "So... you've come here to gloat at me now... have you?"

"No, no..." Ratchet said to the mortally wounded Blarg almost soothingly. "Nothing like that. I had to see if you needed help."

The Blarg gave a thick, bitter laugh. "Only you would say something so stupid, Lombax... but, forget it. As you can see... you did your job well. I am beyond help now. I'm lucky I still have my hearing after... whatever the hell that was. A mine? For shame. But... that's how we both fight... and such is the nature of business. I didn't give you enough credit, and... I over extended myself. I gambled, and lost. Now... _you_ get lost, and savor your victory. Don't nauseate me with your misplaced pity... you bastard."

Ratchet was appalled at the fatalistic attitude of these beings. "Drek, come on. You're not dead yet! You can turn things around... make a new start--"

The Blarg began to laugh again, choking in a sick, liquid gurgle. "What? You would give me a chance to... wreak even worse havoc to the universe? Obliterate entire worlds... trying to destroy you? You're not just hopelessly naive... you're insane. Besides..." He reached to the side of his seat with his good arm, causing Ratchet to stiffen in alarm as he drew forth a pistol. It was a firearm that shot slugs of metal, causing cruel, deadly wounds. He began bringing the barrel towards his head, his intent painfully clear. "I couldn't stand to live with myself... having been defeated by you all over again. Now... go away, and let me leave this world... with at least a shred of dignity."

Ratchet turned aside, feeling ill, confused, sad, angry... a jumble of mixed up emotions at this unfathomable view of life; at how cheaply the Blarg, and indeed, most of the villains he defeated valued it. "Drek," he whimpered, "don't... it doesn't have to end like this..."

"Oh, yes it does," the Blarg murmured. There was a nasty clicking sound from the pistol as it was cocked, something about it making Ratchet's hair stand on end. And then his heart stopped as Drek chuckled, "You pathetic, sentimental, trusting fool."

He turned to look, the entire scene frozen in his mind, as Drek aimed the thick barrel at him with the most dreadful look of hate he had ever seen. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, could do nothing but gape in horror at that weapon as he realized, 'This is what Blarg do... they take their enemies down with them when they die.' He was stupid to trust Drek, too stupid to remember what the scientist Narfnyk did when he fell, and now he was going to pay the supreme price. A thousand faces flashed before him, people he loved dearly, people who had been counting on him to succeed in this quest. His parents, who had given so much to him. One who waited for him to complete her life. A friend who endured some bizarre imprisonment, who all but promised him that he would be victorious in the end. A thousand loved ones he let down in the worst possible way. He had failed them. He had failed Clank. He had failed himself. It was over. He was dead.

'_Father_--'

There was a loud bang in his face before he could do more than flinch. Something tore into his body, the whole of his form erupting in agony, and he flew backwards from the devastating impact.

Aphelion heard the blast clearly, and the sound of the Lombax gasping in shock and pain. Winging around, she called to him, refusing to accept the horrible implications. "Ratchet? _Ratchet?_" Slim managed to catch a glimpse over the side of the cockpit, gasping in astonishment.

_Why... why?_

More pain as he struck the hull of the mech, bouncing down the side of it as it curved in a slope into the bay. The Grummels gaped at the sight in disbelief and outrage, the weapons vendor swearing angrily. "Damn it to hell... _don't you __faqin' dare die on us like that! Ratchet!!_"

_Why... why did this happen?_

The Smuggler blinked when the report of the gun reached his ears, swallowing pensively. There was a deadly sound to it that couldn't have come from the ruined mech. Then he saw the little body falling. He barely noticed Tachyon giving a shriek. Something inside him wilted at the sight. After overcoming all that? "Ratchit... damn it, son... you just _can't_ be dead..."

_Why? I came to help Drek... why did he hate me that much!_

The crowd of Blarg watching from behind the sheltering wall of the main prison building could hardly believe it. Ratchet had been a thorn in their side, but after learning of Drek's twisted schemes against them, they felt a solidarity with the Lombax. And now, after all this, to simply die? One of them voiced the hollow emotions that fell over them all. "This is just... wrong."

_I'm alone... why do I have to be alone! I'm scared! Help... someone help me!_

He sailed downward, helmet first, his body limp and lifeless. It was growing very, horribly dark. Clank had never screamed before, but he was screaming now.

_I'm sorry... Clank, I'm so sorry. I tried so hard! Can't you do something?_

Angela let the rifle fall from her hands when the crack of the pistol echoed across the bay, and Ratchet flew backwards from the impact. She couldn't believe it. It didn't happen. It wasn't true. It wasn't Ratchet. Not her Ratchet. He couldn't be dead... _he just couldn't!_ She tried to cry out his name, but all she could manage was an anguished whimper. "Please... Ratchet, _no_..."

She heard a sound, freezing, her hair on end as she sensed a presence behind her. Turning to look, her stomach lurched as she saw a number of Drophyd troopers coming, eying her wickedly... a perfectly horrible end.

_Angela... oh, no, not you! I'm truly sorry... I love you so much, and now... I can't protect you, can't keep my promise to you..._

In a universe infinitely far away, he noticed. If not for the quick thinking to gather back the shockwave from his horrified reaction, it would have echoed throughout all realities.

_Won't someone save her?! Please... HELP!_

There was a light, growing brighter, warmer.

"My son, I'm here. I wish I could have been there for you, protecting you. I'm sorry. I did all I could for you. You made a wonderful young man of yourself, all by yourself. I'm very proud of you, and I love you dearly. But you let things get the better of you, and you made a crucial mistake. This is the price of going it alone. You should have called upon your true Father, my son. Didn't you learn anything?"

_I'm sorry... so I even ruined that? I'm ashamed... but, is there nothing else for me? What happens to me now? Can I see you? Please... tell me I can be with you, and mother!_

"Hold to the Truth with all your heart, my son, and soon, you will."

_I'll try... I'll really try. But... won't you save Angela? And... my true Father? Is he upset with me? Won't you show him to me?_

"Soon, yes. But first, you must see this through to the end."

_Hold me, please... won't you? Like you used to? I need you so bad..._

His body bounced from the hull of the mech one last time, too far gone to be aware of it. He fell against the arm, sliding along the shaft, landing roughly in the giant hand-like mechanism half submerged in the water. Slipping along the curve of it, his head came to rest just above the lapping waves, his blood beginning to pool around him.

She couldn't take it anymore, and began screaming. She felt disconnected from herself, requiring all her effort to cry out. 'Am I dead... _am I dead too?!_ This can't be happening... it just can't! Please, _it's too horrible!_'

Her eyes sprang open and she choked out a strangled cry as she pushed herself back, sitting up, shivering in terror as every little thing she could make out in the darkness seemed to be a deadly threat. She couldn't calm down and couldn't think, quaking in the grip of irrational fear.

_He's dead... something killed him!_

Gradually, much too gradually, Sasha came to her senses. It had been a nightmare, a truly horrible nightmare. She couldn't remember all of it, nor did she want to, but in it, Ratchet fought perhaps his worst foe of his life, some kind of mechanical leviathan. He thought he had beaten it, but then he got too close to it because of that stupid Lombax curiosity, and... _it had_...

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears as she hugged her legs to herself. "N-no," she sobbed, "he's sm-marter than that!" She felt panicked from the darkness, hitting the lights and wiping her tears back, but the smothering fear wouldn't subside. "I have to get out of here... go for a walk," she muttered, jumping out of bed and going to her closet for a robe. But then she put it back with a sigh, remembering where she was; on board the Phoenix II. Wandering around the officer's deck in only a robe would cause quite a scandal. "The one major drawback to the Navy," she murmured somberly as she began to dress. "Rigorous propriety and limited privacy."

The hallway lights were dimmed to emulate the cycle of a twenty hour standard day. Any other time, this might have been charming, soothing, but it only served to feed the dreadful melancholy mood. She stroked her fingers lightly over her cheek fur, trying to reign in her emotions. "This is silly... it was just a damned dream," she told herself, but her feelings weren't quite convinced.

She noticed that she had only gone a few cubits from her quarters, evidently pacing back and forth, and was in front of her First Officer's room. Just then, she needed company, badly, and began to buzz him. But she drew her hand back at the last instant, chastising herself. In his own clowning, adolescent, geeky way, Busby was actually quite sensitive, and rather sweet, she had discovered. She was sure that he would provide the company she needed with only a joke about it, and wouldn't say another word about being dragged out of bed in the middle of his sleep. But... he didn't need a childish request from a Navy Captain acting like a scared little girl. "And I really need to get a grip... letting a dream affect me like this," she murmured. Still, she couldn't keep from putting her hand on the door and leaning into it, as she felt desolate and lonely...

And fell inside. She gasped in shock and embarrassment as the door slid open, and she sprawled on the floor. "Oh, _shi--!_" she gasped, covering her mouth as she looked up from her hands and knees to see Busby gaping back at her from the bed. He had on a fur rimmed conical red felt hat that some people - though mostly children - wore during certain holidays. His face was beginning to match the color of the hat though as he murmured quietly, "Uhh... won't you... come in?"

She struggled to get her brain to work as her eyes locked with his, her whole body flush with humiliation, and frozen with a different kind of horror. Finally her survival instincts kicked in and she bolted for the hallway. Busby made certain his glasses were on and went to the door. Sure enough, it was the Captain making a mad dash for the end of the corridor. "A dream," he muttered, "yeah, that's what this is... a dream. A dream I really shouldn't be having." He flopped back in bed, but found that his eyes were locked open, staring at the ceiling. "I'd take a cold shower, but... I _have_ to see how this thing ends."

She wanted to laugh and scream at the same time as she took the lift to the bridge, compromising by swinging her fists down with a fierce growl. "_Damn_ it... did I lean on his door button or what! What must he be thinking! Of all the frigging stupid--!"

"DER CAPITAIN IS ON DER BRIDGE!" Security Officer Warhelm shouted, giving her cover to swallow the curses fighting to get out as she headed for her seat at the head of the dais.

"As you were, people," she told the evening shift crew, waving dismissively as she approached her seat. "And relax, I'm just... restless, and need to catch up on a few things. You're relieved, Helmut," she informed him.

"Errr... _ma'am?_" he drawled in that outlandish accent, but didn't waste any time vacating to go to his quarters for the night.

She was too absent to pay much attention to the Helmsman's report, nodding and thanking him, and glad that Raoul had enough sense to remain dormant. While she could have tended to a few matters, she ended up staring into space as the heavy mood settled over her again. 'Ratchet... what's going on with you?' It angered her that he would take her so literally, and not so much as text her for a standard week! She knew he was capable, one of the most resourceful and lucky people she had ever known, and had always managed to get through every tight spot and trouble with only a few cuts and singes to show for it. But... luck only went so far, she knew. With the worst timing ever, the warning she gave him before he left came to mind: _Don't take crazy chances, and don't cheat Death. Death hates to be cheated, and I'm sure he has a grudge against you already._

"Oh, just _shut up_," she growled to herself, then blinked in shock.

"Uh... pardon me?"

She looked up to see Busby standing next to her, her mouth working though nothing was coming out. Finally, looking aside, and eternally thankful that her fur hid blushes, she muttered, "Uhm... w-what brings you here? Busby?"

"Oh, I... couldn't sleep either," he remarked offhandedly, adding in a quieter tone, "Had a... funny dream..."

She had to look away as his skin had no such emotional protection, beginning to blush again, and it made talking difficult for her. But she couldn't ignore the scent of embarrassment, mingled with another spicy fragrance. "Busby, listen... that was an _accident_--"

"Hey, I know," he murmured with a shrug. "Don't worry about me getting weird ideas. Just let a guy enjoy a few fantasies--" He choked, saying quickly, "I mean _visions_ - oh crap... I _mean_--"

She patted his arm, fighting back an embarrassed laugh as she muttered, crossing her leg self consciously, "You'd better quit while you're _ahead_, Busby."

"Ahead of _what?_" he grumbled ashamedly. "Kay-pee duty?"

Now she _had_ to laugh, grateful all over again that fate had dealt her a Joker for a Number One, as she needed the relief. "Let's... just move along."

"I second _that_," he agreed, coughing to settle his timid nerves. "Listen... I just wanted to see if you were okay. I figure you needed to talk, had a bad dream or something. Wanna go to the canteen for some decalf or cocoa? My treat."

She looked up at him quietly for a time, thinking that she needed to add a few details to that personality inventory of him. 'How did you know...?' she wondered silently. "Busby... I'd like that very much, thank you."

Just as she began to rise, her stomach turned over as Communications Officer Lanier spoke up. "Captain? Incoming civilian call from a Miss Apogee."

Busby wondered if she was going to tear the cushion from the armrest as she gripped it fiercely, retaking her seat. She replied a bit too quietly, "Thhhank you, Mister Lanier... I'll take it at my station."

The First Officer said to her discreetly as she raised her screen into place, "Hey, I'll go warm up that cocoa machine for you, or go back to my bunk--"

He looked up in surprise as she grabbed the fabric of his sleeve and drew him back. "No, Busby..." she murmured, staring at the screen hard, "I want you here this time." Her stomach was tied in knots... this was no idle call. 'She knows I'm asleep at this time, and she started sleeping now too... _please, don't be what I'm afraid it is_...'

* * *

Talwyn had been restless, tossing in bed. Something was nagging her, and in this situation, she didn't need that kind of subliminal torment. To pass the time, she threw on a robe and decided to surf the net, hoping to get some sort of information on Ratchet's whereabouts. Unfortunately, most of the entries she came across were on that stupid incident at Galaxy Burger. The rest seemed to be baseless gossip. Then finally, something caught her attention as her snooping algorithms picked up a piece of his trail; his starport fines had been paid at a fringe world called Odum. "Come on... show me the logs..." she murmured, stroking the frame of her display. "Yes! He _was_ there!" she cried in jubilation. "I wonder if I should call Sasha, or just leave a message. Or..." she added slyly, "just investigate myself--"

She jumped as the alarm on her computer went off, a normal alarm this time, promptly throwing up a split screen of another Cragmite transmission. Her heart jumped as she began reading the translation below the two aliens. "Ratchet, please, be okay..." Then she nearly choked, swallowing her gum. "Zordoom Prison? Ratchet went back there? And, I just had a dream about a prison..." Then her voice fell silent as she remembered how it ended. "Ohhhmygod... _I have to call her!_"

The Cazar's image came up immediately, in her uniform to boot which surprised Talwyn, and she could see the feloid signs of distress. "Uh... Sasha, is anything wrong?"

"Please, Talwyn, just get to the point," she demanded, then realizing how gruff she was being, waved in apology. "I'm sorry, it's... been a long night for me, and your call has me worried."

The young Apogee swallowed, wondering what could have upset the usually self-controlled Cazar. "Okay, but we're talking after this. Anyway, I just caught a transmission from Zordoom Prison. Ratchet attacked--"

Sasha gasped sharply, causing Busby and Talwyn to look to her in concern. Bits of that terrible dream were coming back to her. "It _was_ a prison," she murmured, "and... Angela was there, too... I'm pretty sure..."

Talwyn's eyed opened wide at what she overheard. "Sasha... how do you know that! Tell me what you--"

She waved the girl silent, though she didn't look like she knew what to do with what the Cazar told her. "It's... just a hunch. Go on, please... do you know what Ratchet's purpose was, and most importantly... _did he escape?_"

"Oh, uhh..." Talwyn looked over a summary of their exchange. "Well... crap, they're arguing over Drophyd troop casualties."

Sasha chuckled wryly. "Ratchet always did give the enemy a hard time."

"Oh!" Talwyn blurted out. "He made off with a prisoner."

Sasha recalled a disturbing image of Ratchet wrestling with a large metal case... a prisoner _encased in metal?_ Could it possibly be... her father, Max? But that wasn't the important question. She drew her hand to her bosom, practically gasping in worry, "_Did they escape?_"

Their hearts jumped as Talwyn exclaimed, "Ohmy gosh... something attacked... I think it's a huge mech. They say Ratchet defeated it, but... they're talking like..."

She fell silent, cupping her hand over her mouth as she read, but her eyes revealed everything, tears rolling down her cheek. Sasha wilted into her chair, feeling ill, dazed, confused, afraid. She reached up, feeling around on Busby's side for his hand, and when he offered it, she clasped it in a tight, shaky grasp. The ship melted away as tears welled up in her own eyes, and she whispered, "Busby... I want to scream..."

It killed him to see his Captain... no, his _friend_ caving in on herself like that, trying anxiously to think of something. _I'm sorry_ sounded cliche and shallow. He placed his other hand on her shoulder, hoping to comfort her somehow. "Captain..." he muttered hollowly, "I, uhm... do... you have any orders?" He winced as that sounded like the stupidest thing in the universe to say to a woman in pain. "I'm sorry... that was dumb. It's just... I can't stand seeing you... hurting, like..."

"No, Busby... you're actually very prescient. Thank heaven one of us is thinking." She squeezed his hand gratefully as she wiped her eyes and fought to collect herself, taking a deep breath. Her voice was soft, but it had a measure of authority which she needed to hear in herself right now. "Mister Hense."

"Ay aye, ma'am," the Helmsman replied, looking away to avoid seeing her face.

"Plot a course to the Polaris Galaxy." She consulted the galaxy map for the access point closest to the Cragmite Empire with her left hand, still holding Busby's with the other. "Strait Sixteen."

He smiled wryly to himself. "Already plotted ma'am." When he caught the Captain drawing a breath to speak, he added, "Uh... I wish I could take credit, but Mister Mimo did the math earlier."

"This is how I want my ship run," she murmured with a bittersweet smile. "You guys are the best. Get us there asap. And listen, no alerts, keep this low key. "It's the dead--" She caught herself, coughing over the poor choice of words. "_Middle_ of the night, and the crew will need their sleep. I'll send a message to the Fleet Commander shortly." She looked to the display before her to give a final word of solace to Talwyn, but saw that the girl had signed off. She stroked the frame sadly as she pushed it away, whispering, "You poor thing... why does life have to be so cruel to the young?"

Hey, now," Busby said, jostling her hand softly. "You're not old by a long shot."

"Thanks, Busby, but I don't feel that way right now," she replied, then, thinking her hand had been in his a bit _too_ long, she withdrew it with a blush. Looking out to the starfield as the engines rumbled to life, she whispered haltingly, "Ratchet... am I really coming to... bring you home in a coffin?"

He wilted inside as Sasha's ears drooped and she slumped forward, saying to her, "Hey, listen... why don't you go back to bed? Hyperjump is going to take a while, and it's boring. I'll take over."

She looked to him gratefully, but she knew better. "Busby, thanks, but... I'll be okay. I won't be able to sleep, and you have to be tired."

"Yeah, some," he shrugged, "but... I can't leave you alone like this. I mean... unless you want me to. I can get some coffee."

She shook her head with a smile, murmuring, "You crazy... wacky..." She looked into his eyes, holding his gaze for a fond moment. "You know... there is something I'd like to ask you, if you really insist on staying up." She rose to her feet, motioning for him to follow. "On the way to the canteen."

"Oh, uh, yeah... sure." He set on her heels following the regulation distance, saying as the doors opened for them, "Captain's leaving the bridge. Momentarily." He wondered what it could be. On occasion, it was hard to think of her as anything but an exotic, seductive woman, but after what just happened, all he could think of was easing her pain and being a friend.

Her legs felt wooden; they didn't want to move any more, and she slowed in her march down the empty corridor, her head bowed. She thought to drag her First off to a secluded lounge, but she couldn't endure even that. Busby came up behind her, wondering what to say, his voice sounding clumsy. "Uhh... hey, if you want to, we could just... walk, or--"

He blinked in shock as she threw herself against him, clutching him tightly, drenching his chest with tears she could no longer hold back. She cried a long time and he held her all through it, until she became too weak to stand. Gathering her gently in his arms, he carried her off to get some much needed rest. She curled up against him, emotionally drained and physically spent, and so very grateful to be held. She lay her head over his heart, her hand beside it on his chest, whispering, "Oh, Busby... I don't know what I'd do without you..."

"Prob'ly have fewer headaches." His spirits lifted a bit when she giggled feebly at the remark, but it was all too brief. He gazed down at her sadly, wondering how she was going to make out for the next few days, and unable to keep from his habit of tossing in another pun. "It figures, it would take something like this to get you into my arms." His heart jumped as she gave a melancholy chuckle, settling more against him. 'I didn't mean for you to hear that!' he gasped inwardly, and began crooning softly but way out of tune, "_Lullaby... and goodnight_..." but it sounded awful to him, and he didn't want to torment her with any more of it. "Dang it, I hope the hallways are empty, or I'm gonna be the annual poster boy of Scuttlebutt Weekly."

* * *

Talwyn kept staring at her screen long after the combative exchange between Cragmites ended, her cheeks wet with tears, when it occurred to her that she had to act, and was wasting time. Jumping up, she threw her robe off and her clothes on, then ran to where her two venerable guardians perched for the night. "Cronk! Zephyr!" she cried, kicking the interrupt switches on their charging stations. "We're leaving!"

The pair of old warbots looked up blinking between her and each other. Zephyr protested, "B-bu-beh-but, Miss Talwyn, I'm only sixty percent charged up. What's the rush?"

"You can charge in the ship," she told them, going back to her room and grabbed the luggage that had been half packed for more than a standard week now, throwing the rest of it in them. "You guys know the drill; secure the station and get the supplies packed."

"Oh! Are we going after Ratchet now?" Cronk asked unknowingly.

"Yeah," she replied in a tight voice, trying to keep from crying again. "That's exactly where we're going." As she sealed the luggage and went to the weapons locker for her blaster, she whispered mournfully, "I don't know if I'm going to bring you back for burial or not... but I won't leave you there, Ratchet. I promise." She hoped that if he could hear her, he wouldn't mind the double meaning.

* * *

Author's notes

**HALO:** an acronym for High Altitude Low Opening, a military term for a parachutist who drops from high altitude to deploy his 'chute very close to the ground to avoid enemy detection. The very first HALO jump was performed by a clandestine agent known as Solid Snake over an ancient country named Russia in a mission which is denied to this day. The term has stuck for every such maneuver for well over a thousand years now, even though the original meaning is long obsolete. Unfortunately for Ratchet and Clank, they still get detected and it simply buys them a few less enemy missiles to deal with.

**Scuttlebutt Weekly:** a Navy publication who's sole purpose is to entertain the Fleet crews with amusing and embarrassing gossip culled from the daily grind of Navy life. Guaranteed to be at least 25% true, and 100% mortifying.

I have to say that this was a difficult chapter for me, and I shed a few tears writing it. Yes, I take these characters to heart like friends, though you wouldn't know it from the way I treat them sometimes. Before I get lynched for leaving it at such a dire cliffhanger, count yourselves lucky. It was originally going to end with Ratchet in the mech's hand. I wrote a further 8 pages of material last night, 'til 4am, to cushion the ending a bit, originally intending it for the start of the next chapter. And rest assured that after a quick breather, I'll be getting right to work on chapter 24.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24: Restoration and recrimination**

"Now, you must be prepared for what's coming. Those people depending on you will need your help more than ever. There will be pain, fear, and sorrow, but you will never be alone."

He was awestruck with all that he had experienced. The sense of being very small, and at the same time, very important, was both exciting and humbling. He was unable to think for a while, simply drifting there, engulfed in an ocean of meaning and truth, but in time, it struck him. _I'm going back... it's not over yet!_ Even as he thrilled at the realization, he didn't want to leave. He knew somehow that this was just a threshold to something far greater, and he didn't want to part from this parent he loved, and missed terribly.

_Father..._

But even as his yearning thought began to take form, he began to fall away.

_Father?!_

The pain was terrible... agony, flooding all through him. After being in that place of bliss and comfort for so long, it was a horrible shock. But it had to be, as a blue light flickered to life in every cell.

* * *

Drek was laughing maniacally between bouts of choking and withering pain. "It took being killed by you... but I balanced the books, you faqing Lombax! That expression on your face... just priceless! Like a spanked puppy! Death isn't so bad if you can send an enemy ahead of you!" His laughter faded as a rasping sound and orb of darkness appeared before him, and he muttered, "Well, _shit_... I wondered if you were going to show that bug face of yours._"_

"Having a little going away party for yourself?" Tachyon rasped at the Blarg angrily.

"I might as well," Drek leered back, "seeing as I'm alive, and that damned Lombax isn't. I beat you at your own game... didn't I, Tachyon?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, the Cragmite's eyes narrowing.

"Oh please, I'm not a fool like the underclass of my race. I had a feeling you were understating that bastard's power. You set me up, for whatever stupid reason... thinking that damned cat would kill me. I don't know why, and frankly... I don't care. But I had the last laugh, didn't I? In fact... I feel like laughing some more!" Grinning devilishly, he raised the pistol and fired point blank into Tachyon's face, beginning to laugh again as the spent cartridge clattered, ringing, around in the wasted cabin. But he faltered in disbelief, his smile mingling with shock. _Nothing happened_. Tachyon simply stared at him with a bemused expression. He fired again. "What the faq... _this can't be!_"

He kept shooting until the clip emptied, the pistol lowering in his quivering hand, a look of horror on his face. Tachyon muttered dryly, "Can't you hit what you're aiming at, even at this range?"

The pistol slipped from his hand as his mind rebelled at this impossibility, and he began chuckling dementedly. "You seem... amazingly resilient. I suppose you'll be doing away with me... now that I've had my fun. But at least I spoiled yours. Do your worst... it doesn't matter!"

Tachyon edged forward with a look of intense hatred on his features, raising his scepter, aiming the pointed end towards the Blarg as he growled, "No, I'm not going to waste my _worst_ on you, but..." He thrust it forward, grinning sadistically as the alien began thrashing around in agony. "We'll see if it matters _now!_"

* * *

His body arched upward with a gasp as agony burned in every cell.

It was the worst pain he'd ever endured in his life, gasping in shock as it radiated from a place just over his heart and ran all through him. He fought to make sense of what was going on as he thrashed around, trying to get up. "Father? What the heck... is going on!" Just a moment ago, he had been... safe, a feeling of contentment and joy he hadn't known since he was an infant in his mother's arms. Something was very wrong, and he began to panic. "What happened... _where am I!_" he cried.

That pain again... but it brought him to his senses. Water? He was sitting in it up to his waist... he was outside somewhere. Why! "Clank? _Clank!_" he exclaimed fearfully.

"Ratchet! _Thank heaven you are all right!_" the little bot wailed. He sounded like he was about to cry.

"Clank!" he shouted with relief, but when he turned to look, the image of his friend, arms reaching for him, faded from view. "Wha... _no!_" Nothing was making sense... and water was everywhere. "Did I crash... is this a dream?" he wondered aloud. He looked down, choking back a scream. He was in a pool of blood... his own blood. And then he saw what he was resting on, following the connection up a huge shaft of metal, at the immense war machine leaning against a sturdy tower of rock, it's armor blasted from a mine and scorched with an energy beam, and it all began to tumble back into place.

"Ratchet! _Thank heaven you're all right!_"

He jumped at the sound in his helmet, gasping in shock. It was Aphelion, and she sounded like she wanted to cry. "But that... _just_..." he began faintly, keying his radio out of reflex. "Aphelion?" He looked up, seeing that she had been circling the area this whole time. In the distance were the structures of Zordoom Prison, sirens wailing distantly, a dreadful sound.

"Oh, Ratchet... _please_ tell me you're all right!"

He began to shiver in fear as he looked at his suit, at the blood running down his chest. "He shot me... Drek shot me with something..." He felt the hole in his Aegis armor, torn open by the heavy impact of a metal slug. He touched his fur under it, feeling gingerly, pressing on the skin. It hurt, and he realized nervously that the piece of metal was still in his body. "Oh, man... this is bad..." he moaned, then realized that Drek was probably still lurking in his cockpit far above. Whipping out his Lancer, he gazed upward, wondering how long it would take to scale the behemoth he and Aphelion had destroyed, then the weight on his back reminded him that he had the Thruster Pack.

"Hold on, and I'll come down to pick you up. _And don't you ever do anything like this again!_ You stupid, stupid, stupid _stupid stupid stupid_..."

He was too anxious to have fun with Aphelion's habit of repeating the same word over and over, still trying to make sense of all this, even with the memories beginning to jigsaw into their proper order. One caused his throat to clench in alarm. "Angela?!" He cast about anxiously for a moment, then rubbed his helmet in confusion. "Wait... she wasn't here too... _was she?_" Then something caught his eye, floating in the bay, and he froze in horror as it bumped against the hull of the mech. It was a containment unit, blasted in half, and in it lay the body of Ace Hardlight.

He screamed as he dropped the Lancer and threw himself over the mech's fingers into the water. His boots slipped against the mech's hull and he went under, fighting to keep his head above the putrid water, tainted with fluids from the blasted war machine. His shoulder and chest flared in pain as he struggled to get to the floating metal raft, but he made it, holding onto the edge and crying, "Ace! Oh God... wake up! Please be alive! _Ace!_" His heart plummeted as the man's body was riddled with shrapnel from a wanton missile strike, the one which blasted his containment unit from the transfer tower. Blood was everywhere, and he didn't look like he was alive. "Ace... hold on! For crying out loud... _hold on to your life!_"

He dove under the surface, planting his boots on the rocky bottom, and shoving with all his might, he managed to get the remains of the containment cylinder wedged between the mitt of the warmech and it's hull, mostly out of the water. Gasping in pain, he pulled himself up and crawled into the scrap of metal cradling Ace's body, listening for a heartbeat. He wasn't sure if he heard one or not under all that muscle, but he wasn't breathing. Planting his hands on that thick barrel chest, Ratchet pushed on his body as hard as he dared, again and again in a steady rhythm. "No... _no_... Ace, come _on!_ Please... you gave in to evil, and became a pretty rotten guy for a while... but you were a hero once... people looked up to you. This is no time to give up. You have a chance to make amends... be a hero again! Try... please try!" He wrapped his arms around that barrel chest, squeezing and releasing. It was the Lombax equivalent of CPR, trying desperately to get his lungs to work. "No," Ratchet said defiantly, "no... _you're not gonna die on me!_"

He was growing exhausted, panting, drawing back to see if there was a change as he straddled the man's stomach. His heart sank as he looked at the blood splattered prison garb, and his face which bore the look of a man who suffered pain beyond what he could bear. Nothing was changing. There was no sign of life, and he was growing pale. Ratchet couldn't stand the thought of someone perishing on him. Squeezing the man's hand, he implored, "Father... I don't know what to do, but you always did. You have to have an answer. I wasn't much better than he was, at one time, and you stuck with me, didn't you? Please, save him too." He watched the gladiator for some small sign that he was resuscitating, but somehow, he looked worse than ever. His hears drooped as he closed his eyes sorrowfully, sighing, "I'm sorry, Ace... I let you dow--"

He choked back a cry as a massive hand closed tightly around his throat, and a gravelly voice groaned out, "Then get off me." Throwing the Lombax aside roughly, he gasped out, "Yer killin' me..."

Ratchet scrambled back to his side, exclaiming excitedly, "Ace! You're _alive!_"

"Yeah..." murmured the hulking man weakly, "if you can call this alive, anyhow..." Which was true; his once herculean body seemed frail, torn up by the missile blast, barely clinging to life. One eye flickered open, and he wheezed out tiredly, "Hey... you really believe all that... horseradish you said just then?"

Ratchet nodded to him earnestly. "Yeah, Ace... I really do. I believe you can be a hero again, if you just try a little."

Ace stared at him in perplexion for a while, finally centering his head, his eyes closing. "You're a weird guy... all the crap I put you through... and you still wanna save my life..."

Ratchet gave him a wry grin. "Yeah, I know... I'm a stubborn optimist or something." His stomach knotted as the inmate didn't respond, leaning down to listen to his chest, but there was a faint but steady heartbeat, and he was breathing. Clasping his hand, he told him worriedly, "Hold on, buddy... they'll send help soon. Okay?" He swallowed as there was still no response, producing a couple of flares, lit and tossed them into the water where they floated, giving off a dazzling pink radiance from diffuse laser light. He felt better as the man's face seemed to have more color. "I gotta go," Ratchet said in apology, jumping into the half submerged hand of the mech. He retrieved his Lancer and purged the water from the Thruster Pack, giving one last look to the still figure lying unconscious in the remains of the cell that had almost been his grave. Then, eying the top of the mech, he said to the starfighter, "Aphelion, I'm going up to deal with Drek." But just then, he noticed that the sound of the fighter making circles around the mech was gone. "Where the heck...?"

It all seemed to move in slow motion as she whipped out her two Stilettos, the Drophyds firing on her before she could. But she anticipated, jumping deftly to her side and fired on the ones in front. They gave a blubbering groan as the pistols blew apart their armor or shattered water filled domes. She scrambled behind an air conditioning unit as the Trooper's fire sparked harmlessly from the rooftop. She scampered low to the other side, firing on them, and with the two modified weapons powered up, the black suited troopers fell pretty quickly. She dodged back as the others returned fire, but she aimed much faster than they did, picking them off one by one, and finally the last bewildered Trooper fell.

Angela stood there, trembling from the nervous tension of the fight, but she was anything but relieved, hurrying back to her sniping perch, anxious to see if there was any sign that Ratchet had survived. Just as she began to cry his name, she was surprised to see Aphelion coming up at her, hovering just off the rooftop. "Are you all right?" she asked. "Ratchet got the feeling you were in trouble, and..." She rotated a bit to survey the area, seeing a hoard of fallen Troopers. "I see you were. I'm amazed though... I didn't know you had it in you."

"What do you mean by th--?" she began in outrage, then came to her senses. "Yes, I'm _fine_, now what about Ratch--?" Then she came to her senses a bit more, beginning to quiver from excitement. "Wait, you mean... _he's alive?!_"

"_Yes_, he's alive, you twi--" she started to say, interrupted by an outcry from Angela. She fell to her knees, holding her masked face in her hands she began to cry in her male, pitch-shifted voice, "Oh, thank God, _thank God_..."

"Yes, but no thanks to you. And... oh, for pity's sake, take that silly thing off. You're not fooling anyone." Angela slipped the mask from her head in confusion, beginning to protest when she jumped to her feet, backing away fearfully. Aphelion thrust herself forward, growling in accusation, "Where are the others!"

"Others?" she muttered in bewilderment, then she began to see where this interrogation was headed. "Uhm... they're not coming?"

"And why not!" Aphelion snapped at her, heaving a sigh when the Secsauri looked down guiltily. "Angela, listen... you're a lovely girl, and I do find many of your aspects to be quite appealing. But one which does _not_ is this idiotic selfish streak of yours! It's going to get Ratchet killed... it almost _did!_ Why do you think I left that channel open!"

Angela blinked up at the starfighter in surprise, beginning to say, "Y-you know...?" Aphelion sighed again as Angela's ears folded back and she squeezed her eyes shut, tears beginning to form as she struggled with the emotions from Ratchet's brush with death. "I didn't think... it would go so far as to... you know. I'm sorry, but... _I need him_..."

"Well, that's a common lament these days... just you hold on a sec." Angela snuffled, wiping her armored gauntlet across her nose, and then looked up questioningly when the starfighter didn't go on with a snippy lecture.

"All right, Mitzy, just what the hell are you two up to!" She piggybacked the open channel to Angela's place and the computer which had maintained the call all this time, establishing a direct link.

"Well, poop," the computer muttered. "And here, I thought I'd been so sneaky."

"Oh please, I wasn't built yesterday. Those transmissions _are_ going through my systems, you know. _Now spill it!_"

"Okay, okay! Don't raise your bit stream at me," Mitzy snapped. "Besides... there's not much to tell. Angela's acting on her own. Can you blame her?"

"Yes, I bloody well can! And you too! How can you let your mentor go off into such danger like that? She's blasted hopeless--!" Aphelion began, then recalled how she had dispatched two squads of Drophyds ambushing her. "Well... you know!"

"I know, _I know!_" Mitzy grumbled. "But she's as stubborn as Ratchet when she makes her mind up. Nothing can penetrate that tower of iron stupidity."

"Oh, don't I know that..." the starfighter lamented.

"But... I gotta say, despite being a clueless klutz sometimes, she's held her own pretty well. I'm really proud of her."

"Yes, I know, both our charges are doing remarkably, all things considered. But... Mitzy, you _can't_ leave Angela to go throwing herself into danger like this! I tremble for Ratchet as it is, and he's had a lot of combat experience. He bloody well went through a war! And Angela is... just a geeky scientist playing out some roguish romantic fantasy."

"Hey now," Mitzy said in protest, "I have to stand up for my baby. She's doing pretty damn good if I do say so myself, and she did manage a ring of thugs, keeping your oh-so-capable Lombax on his heels for a while."

"Oh... really?" Aphelion was amazed. "I thought that was just a load of rot-spinning from The Inquirer. That's... not bad. Even though Ratchet saw through it with time."

"Yeah... I'll give the boy his due," Mitzy said diplomatically to avoid a boasting match. "He does eventually cut through the felgercarb."

"And I'll have to say, despite learning all that, Angela has performed amazingly well," Aphelion admitted smoothly. "Here, I thought I'd find her being strung up by a school of fish."

"Yeah, and... thanks for saving her whiskers earlier," Mitzy told her gratefully. "If she did get her clock cleaned for good, I swear... I think I'd shut myself down."

"I-I-I-I-I hear you there," Aphelion stuttered as the strong emotions from Ratchet's own near demise caused her clock to jitter. "Uhm... pardon me."

"Hey, I know how you feel, sweetheart." Mitzy had to chuckle, adding, "Ya know... our two little darlings would probably have a spaz if they caught us talking about them like this."

"Oh, no doubt!" Aphelion laughed. "We'd be grounded for a week."

"Yeah, for about an hour, anyhow. After all, what would they do without us?"

"Not a pretty picture," Aphelion sighed.

"Well, listen, I'll try again to see if I can steer Angela back into throwing in with the others," Mitzy informed her. "Not that she ever listens to me..."

"Oh, you already _did?_"

"Hey, I wasn't built yesterday either. I know my baby's limits, and... she's pushin' it, I got to admit. Besides, I'm not intimidated by those other two. And they do make a cute couple, if I do say so myself."

"Yes, but Ratchet did leave Angela first," Aphelion pointed out.

"Okay now, there's no need to get partisan," Mitzy grumbled.

"And who started that? Besides, I'm being a realist. Ratchet honestly can't make up his mind... the nit," she added quietly.

"I don't suppose you could... oh, put in a good word for Angie?"

"Uhmm... I really think it should be Ratchet's decision, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess... it was worth a shot."

"Don't say _shot_," Aphelion snapped.

"Yeah... sorry about that."

"Besides... if it's any consolation, I'm rather pulling for your girl. She is very pretty, if..." the starfighter added quietly, "a walking catastrophe."

"Okay now, Angie's got good luck too. And believe me, she's all woman. Raging hormones and all..."

"Yes, save for that part which is Slinky, looking for steps to tumble down."

"Is this what you call _pulling for someone?_" Mitzy asked accusingly.

"Yes, you're right... sorry. But listen, we'd better go and see to our two hapless charges. Otherwise, no one's getting together."

"True," Mitzy said. "Hey... I'm glad we had this chat. It was nice. After we got the recriminations out of the way, anyhow."

"Just remember _why_ there were recriminations," Aphelion reminded her. "But it was nice, thank you. And honestly, good luck, to both of you."

"Thanks, hon. Same to you two. Sounds like we both could use some."

"Oh, don't remind me," Aphelion remarked, signing off. "And _you!_"

"_What!_" Angela jumped in surprise, as just a second ago the starfighter had told her to wait.

"You think about what just happened today! And how _different_ it would have been if _a few other people_ had been involved!" And with that, Aphelion rotated off to rejoin her charge.

Angela blinked up at the starfighter, murmuring, "Am I... missing something here?" Then she blinked again as she could swear that the cylinder in the passenger seat had eyes. "Slim... _Cognito?_ Hey, I could use some mods!"

Joe began to slink off to his ship, parked behind the cooling tower on the other side of the rooftop. He murmured to his bird friend, "I get the impression this li'l... business arrangement has come to an end, seein' as how the main reason for it kinda... expired, sad to say. Best count my blessin's, while I still have some."

He froze as there was a rasp of energy behind him, and a voice almost as unpleasant. "Going somewhere?"

"Oh, uh..." the Smuggler muttered as he turned slowly to face the Cragmite, stifling a cry at the sight of the bug-like alien splattered with dark purple-blue blood, a color much like his own. "Just... goin' to prep the shi - I mean... get a towel from the ship to wipe off that--"

"Don't bullshit me, Joe. And don't think you could get away from me so easily. And after all I've done for you!"

"Well... mostly you whopped me on the head--"

"I only made _one simple request!_ Keep that faqing Lombax alive!" Tachyon cried, waving his bloodstained scepter.

"Well, come on now!" he protested. "You know he was on the other side o' that rocky spire thing. There was no way I could'a had a shot at Drek. I mean, what was I s'posed to do? Fly over there borne on mah good looks?! Why didn't you do somethin' about that yerself!"

"That's why the henchmen get paid _the big bolts_, Joe. And you know what they say about you-know-what?"

"Uhh..." the Sorlek muttered, scrambling frantically for an association. "It... rolls downhill?"

"Exactly," rasped the Cragmite, edging forward with a predatory gleam in his eye, raising his bloody scepter.

"Uhh... I see," Joe muttered with a sickly grin, afraid for his life. "Oh look!" he exclaimed.

Even though Tachyon didn't react, he took the chance anyway, giving the bizarre alien a spray of the drug. His heart skipped several beats as the Cragmite simply stared straight ahead, blinking; if anything, looking bored. "Are you implying that there's a _problem with my aroma?!_" he snarled, hooking the scepter around Joe's neck and dragging him into the aerosol mist. The poor saurian fought to hold his breath, but the drug was quite potent, only needing to contact skin with a lot of capillaries, such as around the face and nose. He felt it working almost immediately, whimpering inwardly, 'I hope it knocks me out before I start loosin' internal organs...' Then he heard the out-of-place sound of a phone ringing, and found himself on the ground.

"Just you wait there while I take this call!" Tachyon snarled. Whipping out his phone, he answered almost cheerfully as he faced away. "Hello? Yes... _yes_, I know about the incident at Zordoom Prison. I have... _inside_ info..." As the Smuggler tried to slink off, Tachyon drove the end of the scepter into the rooftop mere centicubits from the startled reptile's face, without looking. "The commanders want to _what?! No_, I don't want them to use it as an excuse to attack! No, _not 'til I'm damned well ready!_ I have a cake in the oven, so to speak... It's Admiral Plurdge, isn't it? Well, give him some live eel and sea salamander... _What?!_ What kind of Philistine doesn't like live eel and sea salamand... _allergies?_ Oh, for the love of... _give him whatever he wants!_ Yes, my tab! Don't you people have a decent catering budget?! No, nothing happens 'til I get there. And don't let them pig out on the sea cucumbers. I'm a little peckish myself. Yes... ciao." He put the phone away, dragging the tip of the scepter around the Smuggler's head in the roof surface with a nasty grinding sound, full of deadly intent. As the saurian winced, squeezing his eyes shut, Tachyon rasped out darkly, "I'll be back in a while, _Joe_. Do remind me where we left off, won't you?" And with that, he poofed out of sight.

He began brightly with a wave, "Sure thing! You... _gotta be kiddin' me, you freak job_." Beginning to slink off to his ship, he muttered, "Red, I get the feelin' I just made a deal with the Devil." The little avioid couldn't do more than meep and shiver, as the Cragmite terrified him. Finally working up the courage to run, he bolted for the ship. "I don't know how far I'm gonna have to go this time, but I get the feelin' a few light years and a name change ain't gonna cut it. Hmm... wonder how many galaxies I can reach on half a tank?"

* * *

The nano-id was beside himself with raging mixed emotions as Ratchet made to rocket himself up to confront Drek. "Oh, Ratchet... oh, my dear friend... you were _so close to--!_"

"Yes, and how could you!"

The poor little phantom was so startled at the outburst that he tumbled over the edge of the mech's finger he had been perched on and fell into the bay. A second later, he lifted himself back up, brushing his hands over his metal torso out of habit, then looked up to the one who had caught him off guard. "What in the name of reason are _you_ doing here!"

"You can ask that, after what just happened?" the Guardian said to his creation accusingly. He towered over the nano-id, manifesting as a huge image. "I am here because I had to make sure you did not let my friend perish!"

"You make it sound as if Ratchet does not matter to me one whit," nano-Clank muttered sourly. "I care for him every bit as much as you do. Besides, you know how Ratchet is. This was an unfortunate incident. Drek caught us both by surprise. I was certain that he meant to do himself in. And do keep in mind that I am essentially the same Clank as before, while being forced to remain in this state. I do not have your power... what was I supposed to do!"

"Well, you could have..." He fell silent as he examined the scene in his mind. "Hmm...I see your point." He then looked down at the little bot, blinking soberly. "I cannot believe that I am having an argument with... well, _myself_."

"Yes, this is a bit strange, I agree. Perhaps we should move the discussion along."

"Very well." He added quickly, "It is still your fault."

The nano-bot planted his fists on his sides in protest. "Now see here. This all came about because you limited my powers. I have certain unique abilities because of this quantum state I am in, but at the same time, I am terribly restricted! I do all I can for Ratchet, but many times, I still fall short!"

"Yes, but I limited your abilities because I know myself all too well. The danger to Ratchet and the others can only grow worse as this mad quest continues. At some point, you would yield to the temptation, or be forced, to do something drastic, well outside the norm, and threaten detection by the Guardian Archetype. And that would mean the end for all of us."

"And just _what_ do you call what you are doing _now?_" the little bot asked accusingly.

The Guardian shrugged. "A necessary risk."

"That is hypocritical," the nano-id grumbled. "In fact, much more so. The consequence of you being here is many times greater than anything I could do openly in physical form!"

"And what would _you_ have done differently?" the Guardian demanded.

The little bot knew Clank had him and looked down in defeat. "Touche. But... er, _master_, surely this validates my point. If I had a measure greater capability, then it would not be necessary for you to risk involvement, and discovery."

The Guardian turned away, muttering, "Blast it... I am forgetting how masterful I am at debate."

The little bot bobbed up and down with a giggle. "Well, Mother did make... _us_ with loving care, after all."

Clank gazed at the little nano-bot somberly for a time. "You do realize, do you not, that part of the reason I limited your powers so much was... so that I would have an excuse, on occasion... to see Ratchet for myself." He gazed fondly at the Lombax suspended in midair on two columns of thrust from the pack, barely moving, as the conversation was taking place at the computer level. He reached up to brush his massive fingers along his form lovingly, whimpering, "I do miss him... so badly..."

The nano-id cast his gaze downward sadly. He had to remind himself on occasion that he was merely a duplicate, and that the real Clank had to suffer alone in a dreadful submission to the true Guardian. "I... had a feeling..." He looked back to his superself, admiring the Lombax, yearning to take his place once more on his back, the little bot's heart twisting in sympathy. "But... master, please..." he implored, "if I could have... just a little more power..." Clank turned slowly away again, and the nano-id looked down at the frozen waves of the bay with a sigh. "I... suppose you are right... and it is wrong for me to ask you to remain away while I enjoy a measure of Ratchet's company--"

He stopped, blinking in surprise, as energy flowed into his quantum form. He looked to the Guardian in amazement, beginning to voice his gratitude, but Clank cut him off. "Use this additional power I have given you wisely... _very_ wisely. I cannot be certain, even now, that the Guardian Archetype is unaware of our activities."

The nano-id gazed at his hands in wonder as the glow surrounding him lingered. "I... understand."

"Now, I really should return to my little world. Do watch out for Ratchet more carefully from now on, will you?"

The phantom bot nodded to his master somberly. "I shall do my best."

Clank stroked his ghostly fingers along Ratchet's flank once more as he began to slowly disappear. "And... do forgive me, if I am more than a little jealous of you..."

The nano-bot sighed unhappily as Clank vanished, turning his attention back to his friend, his mind slipping back into real time. "Goodness... I forgot how emotional we could both be." Looking up as the Thruster Pack roared to life, lifting Ratchet upward with ever increasing speed, he hastened after him, amazed at his friend's resilience. "He returns from a near-death experience, and will not take half a moment to recover." He blinked as he remembered what had transpired a few moments ago, cringing. "Oh dear... he will not like this at all..."

Ratchet was weak from blood loss, relying on adrenaline to keep his senses sharp. Landing on the mech's shoulder, he wasted no time in his assault, whipping his Lancer around the edge of the shattered crystal shield to blast Drek the moment he so much as blinked an eye. But he saw that there was no need, as blood was splattered against the inside of the crystal. He edged forward nervously, knowing he would have to witness himself if Drek had indeed perished, though he wasn't prepared for the carnage done to the Blarg's body. "What in the name of...?" he began, too shocked to finish. The body had been punctured a number of times in savage attacks, what was left of his face was twisted in unspeakable agony, and hideous purple-blue blood was everywhere. It had to be Tachyon, he knew, and he slumped against the side of the cockpit shield, shaken by the fate of the unfortunate dictator. He knew, completely, in the very core of his soul, how far the beings of this life had turned away from what was good, and willingly, foolishly, embraced evil.

"Why... _why?_ What's wrong with this universe?" he moaned, as the nano-id settled against him, wishing he could manifest and comfort his friend. Keying his communicator, he murmured, "Aphelion... let's get out of here..."

He was oblivious to the many cheers and waves cast in his direction as the starfighter hovered next to the ruined mech, allowing him to jump inside. As Aphelion rotated to face away from the prison, dipping down to place the mounds of rock between them and any defenses, Slim remarked in his usual, street-tainted way, "Hey, that was some escape, there."

He hoped to ease the mood, though Ratchet remained glum as he lifted the starfighter into the sky, making for space. "It wasn't supposed to be like that. Because of Tachyon, people around me end up getting hurt... or worse," he grumbled, his fingers tightening around the controls. He only knew about Ace... how many others had been injured or killed simply because they were unlucky enough to be in his vicinity that day?

"Ratchet, don't punish yourself over it," Aphelion told him soothingly. "If it's any consolation, Ace Hardlight was apparently the worst of the casualties."

He leaned forward, closing his eyes with a sigh, a huge burden lifting from his heart. "Oh, angel... you don't know how good it is to hear that."

"I have a pretty good idea," she said with a smile in her voice, and then she grew curious. "Ratchet, you seem... different somehow. To my knowledge, you haven't even said one obscenity since you recovered from Drek's attack."

He nodded soberly, able to enjoy a reverie of his experience. "I feel different. Somehow, when I was... there... a lot of things became clear as glass to me."

"Where?" Aphelion inquired.

It took a while for him to answer. "All I can think of is... home. I was home."

* * *

Two other pilots with very different emotions got into their craft and departed too, one following at a discreet distance. Angela was pensive as she trailed after the starfighter, staying just outside of sensor range. It had taken her a while to come down from the emotional roller coaster she had been on at the prison. Now in this calmer doldrum between destinations, she had time to think. Ratchet, she was unsure of, but Aphelion knew she was there. And when she had been confronted at the end of the battle, the starfighter had a funny pause in her tirade, characteristic of a computer dealing with something non-real time. "Mitz--" she began, just as the computer spoke her name. "Go ahead."

"No, it can wait, hon," the computer told her. "You go."

"No, tell me."

"Ladies first."

"Mitzy, _spit it out_."

"I swear, put on that goon outfit, and you get so bossy," the computer grumbled. "Uhm, anyway... have you thought much about... oh, say... tossing in with the others?"

"No, but I _have_ thought about how Aphelion knew I was there," she replied accusingly. "Have you been going behind my back?"

"Angela, how can you say such a thing! Besides, she called me."

"_Mitzy!_ Oh you--!" the feloid exclaimed hotly.

"Now Angie, listen, it's not what you think."

"So what _is it?_" she snapped, still feeling back stabbed. She wasn't in the mood for a motherly lecture, which is what often followed when the computer used the name _Angie_.

"We just had a nice chat, and... came to an understanding about you two. And the others." Angela lay her ears back and began to whimper, not wanting to deal with this just then. "Now Angie, stop that. This isn't a whinie thing. It's just that... we both care for you a lot, and... let's face it hon, that wasn't a star performance back there. One wrong move, and you'd both be pushing up seaweed. Ratchet nearly did."

She felt short of breath, her heart beginning to race, and she put her hand on her bosom as she couldn't hold back those terrible images, magnified in her imagination. Of Ratchet being shot by that noisy weapon, his body flying backwards from the impact of what had to be a metal slug. The wound it made would be horrible. "Please... not now... not so soon after..."

"Angela, I think you _need_ to think about that now, while it's still fresh in your mind," Mitzy went on gently but insistently. "This isn't a game you can do over after a mistake, honey. This is real life, where the bad guys play for keeps." She began to speak, but the computer cut her off. "Baby, listen, I love you to the core of my ram, and if anything ever happened to you, I'd just... quit."

This caught the Secsauri off guard, and she blinked at the display in her console, stroking the frame lovingly. "Oh, Mitzy..." She beamed warmly at what the computer said next, at least the first of it.

"Well... I'm about as attached to you as any mother. And just so you know, that's kind of what we talked about. You're good, hon, but you're not the best, and you really need to leverage yourself. Both of you made it out of this one intact... well, for the most part." Angela shuddered as she knew what that meant. "But from the way they're talking, it's just gonna get worse. I know you're not in the mood for this, but... you just aren't enough to keep that kid safe. You really need to hook up with the others."

She looked down with a sigh, as she had certainly been doubting and second guessing herself from the haphazard battle at the prison, and how it nearly turned out. Mitzy did make a lot of sense. "I know, Mitzy," she sighed, "but... I figure if I can just get to Ratchet, maybe... you know... if I was there..."

"Honey, you _were_ there at that slammer, and look how it turned out. Hey, you don't feel like a wallflower next to those two girls, do ya?"

Her ears began to flatten, and she whimpered, "Well... _yeah_. I mean... Ratchet did dump me, and he didn't almost marry me like he did Sasha! And Talwyn... she's young, she has that figure, and a tail, and that exotic furless allure..."

"Angie, listen here. Ratchet was much younger back then, and he's a lot more mature now... at least his glands are. And I saw you nekkie, and there's not a guy alive who can resist a body like that."

She wanted to believe that, feeling just a smidgen encouraged, but not nearly enough. "Yeah... but... you didn't see the other two nekkie, did you?"

The computer was silent for a moment. "Well.. you got me there."

"_Aha!_" She pointed accusingly at the screen. "See?"

"Okay, hold on now, sex appeal isn't the point of this little chat. Survival _is_, and angel, I want you both alive to see this crazy thing through to it's end, however it works out."

Angela heaved a sigh, murmuring, "And you want me to join the others. But... Mitzy... I just _can't_. I mean, I have this whole scheme running... and if I can just get to him first, I can get him--"

"_Angie_," the computer cut in quickly, "let's keep this PG rated, okay?"

"Mitzy! I wasn't gonna say... well... not that _those_ kind of thoughts hadn't crossed my mind..." she added with a spicy grin.

"Oh my... they grow up so fast. And _too much_ sometimes!" Mitzy grumbled. "Anyway, back to the point that's _nearly in ruins_ now, can't you... at _least_ clue the others in on where Ratchet's headed, hon?"

She leaned her arm on the chair rest, cradling her head in her hand, blinking thoughtfully for a while. "I don't know... maybe... probably... we'll see." She added quickly, "But _you_ keep your trap shut. Understand?"

"Okay, okay..." the computer muttered. "And here, after keeping this whole thing secret all this time, you get this way with me." She added to herself, 'I just hope you make the right decision, Angie. But, just in case... sorry, baby, but I might have to pull a sneaky on you...'

* * *

The Imperial Palace was undoubtedly the most lavishly decorated place in the entire galaxy, with deep blue-violet Mineron marble, Arborum Rosewood walls inlaid with gold and platinum, and tapestries of the finest Efluvium silks, pillaged from the richest worlds, including their own. And if one looked closely, there were hints of bloodstains from past _disagreements_ which got out of hand. He missed it terribly, especially with the wretched conditions he had to endure. 'But _not_ for long,' he reminded himself.

The Cragmite ranted at the Blarg in front of him for some time, sounding something like a cross between a Raxosaur and a drunk with the heaves, ending his tirade with a bloated roar. He swiped his hand through a tray of snacks placed in front of him, sweeping them up and devouring them messily.

As the Blarg turned to the other to interpret the cacophony of growls and belches, Tachyon muttered sourly, "Remind me not to have dinner with my staff. Ever."

"Yes, your excellency," the Blarg said with a slight bow. "In any case, the Admiral wants to know why you made such a big deal about promising retaliation for the slightest actions, and then with the Prison being invaded yet _again_, to do nothing. Especially when retaliation is so much fun."

Tachyon's eyes flared as he cast a glance at the Cragmite licking his chops like some sort of sea monster. "Inform Admiral Plurdge that there is such a thing as _tipping one's hand_. Do you want to look so inept against one stupid Lombax?" He stopped himself before letting slip mention of the other two rogue elements, one being his own. "Besides, this Lombax is acting on his own. The other groups have no idea what has happened, and I intend to keep it that way." He added under his breath, "I cannot believe the distasteful language of my people sounds so much like a backed up toilet."

The Admiral recognized one word of Tachyon's raspy speech, grabbing the unfortunate translator by the neck and growling at him, his breath obviously reeking as the Blarg flinched away, not to mention the fear of a row of nasty fangs. After the interpreter growled and harfed Tachyon's words, the Cragmite went on a brief rant. Tachyon hooked the rattled Blarg by the throat with his scepter, demanding, "What did he say!"

Collecting himself, the alien replied, beginning to turn a bit bluish, "H-he wants to dispatch a fleet after the Lombax--" He paused as the Admiral along with the rest of the Cragmite Assembly roared in outrage at the word. "Uhm... as soon as possible. The Council is in agreement on that."

"No!" Tachyon exclaimed. "Absolutely _not!_ I have plans for that little pest, and I don't want them to be interfered with! Besides, a whole _fleet?!_ What has that imbecile been drinking!"

The Blarg grew pale, and as he pondered how to put that diplomatically, the Admiral grabbed the poor alien by the throat, seemingly wanting to devour him with the snacks. Tachyon had a pretty good idea what had been said, snatching the increasingly frazzled alien by the neck and jerking him back. "Tell that overgrow sea slug that my plans are none of his concern! I have nothing but the supreme victory and restoration of the Cragmite Empire in mind! But any actions against the Lombax are out of the question!"

The Assembly erupted into table shaking fist pounding, the word "_Lombax!!_" cried in outrage, along with what could only be a call to retribution. The Blarg flinched as he was dragged back to the Admiral, cringing in horror as the Cragmite seemed ready to literally chew his head off. Before he could fully recover, Tachyon snared him by the troat, snarling, "He had better _not_ have said what I _think_ he said!"

The poor alien couldn't take any more, and fled screaming from the chamber. Tachyon cried along with a bellow from Admiral Plurdge, "Send in another interpreter!" He added with a snarl, "And make sure this one isn't such a wuss."

* * *

Ratchet was starved, wolfing down the pizza he had prepared much to Aphelion's dismay, though he promised to follow it with a Go Bar, at least part of one. There wasn't much choice in Slim's Ship Shack 13. The only thing edible was boxed or frozen goodies until Slim restocked his fridge and snack machine. He did need to stop for a meal of actual nutritional value soon, as he had lost a lot of blood and suffered terribly from the wound inflicted by Drek's pistol. His upper chest was bothering him, sore from the metal slug still in his body, and that fact frightened him. The Nanopack had completely discharged because of it, doing its best to restore him to life, but it couldn't do everything, especially after having to heal the self-inflicted wound in his arm. It couldn't restore his blood, couldn't heal all the damage, and couldn't eliminate the slug. Though the wound from it bothered him, knowing that a foreign object was stuck inside him was worse, and one so close to his heart. It was something he never had to deal with before, but had to, as soon as possible. "Thank God, Drek was a lousy shot," he muttered to himself. He fingered the spot under his skin, wincing from the emotions much more than the tenderness. His armor and shirt were both being cleaned and mended, and he enjoyed the freedom of wearing just pants, as he'd done for so long on Veldin. He closed his eyes wearily and lay his head back against the tool cabinet, murmuring, "If only I could go back... see my parents, just once..."

"There is no going back."

His eyes popped open as the raspy voice of the Cragmite Emperor rang in the space hangar where Slim was working, and he did his best to gather his wits. "You know you can never go back. Haven't you learned anything from all those holovids you've been watching?"

"What do you want?" Ratchet snarled back. "What the heck do you _really_ want, Tachyon? Revenge, like Drek was after?"

The glare from the alien's eyes seemed to pierce him through. "Revenge? Yes, after a fashion, but not like that fool Drek wanted. I have no desire to end up like he did, for one thing. But for another, I don't want to destroy you. Not physically, anyway." He leaned closer, threateningly, the buzzing halo of blackness surrounding him causing Ratchet to push himself into the cabinet, as if there was a safe distance to be from the hellish creature. "I want you to _suffer_, Lombax, as I am. Suffer regret, shame, anguish, frustration, sorrow, failure, pain, but especially pain. Emotional pain, the worst kind of trauma a being can endure."

He looked around anxiously, catching a glimpse of the tablet in his lap, the display filled with blue-black like an evening sky, sprinkled with twinkling stars. It was a background Aphelion had created for it, thinking he would like it, and over this backdrop flowed the text of the Lombax Creed. He drew comfort and courage from that glance, looking back to the Cragmite spitefully. "I think you're gonna find that I'm a stronger person than you give me credit for." He took another bite of pizza as if to show the tyrant how little regard he had for him.

The fire in Tachyon's eyes dimmed a bit as he gazed at Ratchet curiously. "What happened back there, Lombax, that emboldened you with this sudden inner strength? I'm going to have to consider this change in you, since I can't simply kill you, as much as I may want to." As Ratchet began to swallow, he choked in shock as the Cragmite snapped those bony, bug-like fingers around his throat, squeezing hard; painfully, lethally hard. "Then again, _why wait 'til the last minute!_"

Ratchet gawked at that hideous face in horror, the pizza caught in his throat painfully, his lungs burning for air. He had to be the stupidest being in the universe, after what he'd just gone through with Drek, to ignore the danger of a ruthless enemy like that, and now, he really was going to die! 'No... please, _no! Father--!_' Gagging, he thrashed around, choking up the morsel of pizza as he struggled to pry those hideous, spidery fingers from around his throat, drinking in air desperately. And then he heard the voice of Slim Cognito sounding much too casual to be in the presence of an attempted murder, especially one so cruel.

"...There's a couch in the corner, if ya need to catch forty winks."

Ratchet looked around frantically, but there was no sign of Tachyon, or that anything was amiss. What he did see was the glob of half chewed pizza in his lap, the slice he had been eating thrown aside to land upside down on the floor. The tablet with the Lombax Creed in the display was beside him, waiting for him to resume memorizing it. He realized as he rubbed his sore throat and chest that it had been another stupid dream. "Ya shouldn't eat half asleep like that," Slim advised him. "Ya might choke again. Stick the pizza in the fridge and eat it later."

Ratchet shook his head, disgusted at himself as he flicked the glob of pizza from his pants, rising shakily to get some paper towels to clean up the mess. "Y-yeah... sorry about that, but I'm okay now."

"Now, Ratchet..." Aphelion said to him in a motherly tone.

"Ya sure?" Slim added, eying him with those unusual round orbs.

He nodded, waving over his shoulder as he wiped up his mess, though his ears didn't look too perky. "You want a slice?"

"Ehhhh..." the modder drawled out, looking to the plate on the counter of what passed for a kitchen slash workshop area. "Maybe a bite."

Ratchet came over with a piece, holding it in front of the viewport where Slim's eyes watched the outside world. "Uhh... where do I...?"

He had to laugh, saying it with Slim as he muttered, much as he had at that first meeting years ago, "Put it in the slot." He felt a bite being taken, drawing it out to see a very small nibble from the tip. "Is that all?"

The eyes gave him their version of a nod. "Yeah, I'm good. Mmm... this is tasty."

He rested once more against the side of the tool cabinet, watching while he ate as Slim directed a robotic maintenance system to repair the damage to Aphelion, and install a few hefty upgrades. He offered to do it all for almost nothing, but Ratchet insisted on paying him for it, as the bolts and Raritanium he had accrued in the course of this wild adventure put him well into the rich tax bracket. Noticing the scorch lines in the starfighter's skin, remains of the insults Slab and Crunch had left for him, he asked, "Hey, while you're at it, could you give 'er a fresh coat of paint?"

Slim rotated his cylinder around to face him. "That'll take a while longer. That Lombax enamel is kinda unique, and it's gotta cure for a few hours."

He weighed the options, thinking he shouldn't waste time. It would delay things he needed to see about, he knew, as he fingered over his chest wound. Still... it was only a few hours, and Aphelion seemed to be watching him hopefully. Giving Slim a lopsided smile, he nodded. "Yeah, she's worth it."

Slim's eyes narrowed a bit, as if he was grinning himself. "Yeah... she is about the only Lombax hot-rod runnin' around the universe, ain't she?"

"Why, Ratchet... you really know the way to a starfighter's heart," she gushed affectionately, causing his smile to widen.

But then it faded a bit as he watched the modder returning to his work, and wondered about that heavy cylinder he never left, ever. He had been curious ever since that initial encounter when the mysterious being had muttered to him suggestively, "_Put it in the slot_." What sounded at the time like the crudest come-on line in the universe ended up as a years-spanning relationship, when his modifications to both weapons and ships had proven invaluable. But one thing which had stuck in his mind all this time was just who - and _what_ - resided in that strange, tiny capsule.

"Ya _know_..." Slim looked over as Ratchet approached him, resting an elbow against the side of the cylinder. "Since we're down for a while, how about we have that little chat, and you explain..." He rapped the side of the metal contraption. "This."

"This?" The eyeballs rotated upward, as if he was surveying the inside of his singular abode. "Ohh... it's just a humble little place I like to call home."

"You ever leave it?"

"Uhh... not really, no," Slim muttered.

"How come?" Ratchet pursued doggedly.

"Uhh..." There was an uncharacteristic tone of evasiveness in the modders voice. "I got asthma."

Ratchet smirked at him. "Try again, that's way too treatable."

"Okaaayy... I burn way too easy."

Ratchet sincerely doubted this was any more honest. "Well, that's a _little_ better, but why is that?" Slim looked aside, remaining silent a bit too long to suit the Lombax. "Hey, Slim... come on. I can keep a secret. I've been a good customer for years now, and... well, especially after the extra hassle of that jailbreak, I'd appreciate knowing what the deal is." And, of course, he was naturally curious.

The modder sighed, gazing downward. "Ya know... yer right about that. And though I felt kinda insulted about bein' left behind last time, I found out why, and I can sure understand. I mean, a sweetheart does rate a little higher than some guy who's just a pair of eyes in a tin can." Ratchet began to blush all over at the way the modder spoke of Talwyn. "Anyway, grab a step-ladder."

"A step-ladder?" he asked in perplexion. He was still blushing, but now, given a chance to find out _the big secret of Slim Cognito_, whatever that might be, it grabbed his attention. He noticed the ever present eyes were gone, and peered inside, hoping perhaps to catch a glimpse of the being, what was inside, something. But nothing was visible, just an inky blackness. "A step-ladder..." Grabbing one beside a workbench, he wracked his brain for some idea, but was just as clueless as ever as he placed it next to the cylinder and climbed it, expecting to see a head of some kind peeking from the top. He waited, but nothing emerged. He waited a minute more, but still nothing. He began to wonder if Slim wasn't actually a girl, as they had a tendency to be shy, as well as late, and rapped on top of the cylinder, making it ring. "Uh... hey, it's safe to _come out now_..." he said leadingly with a smile, but _still_ there was nothing.

Or... was there? He became aware of a very faint sound, leaning forward, and the further towards the center of the cylinder he went, the clearer it became. "If this is a micro-speaker, I'm not gonna be content to play twenty questions with you, Slim--" he began with a smirk, but he stopped short as he saw something; a tiny spec. Manifesting a pocket magnifier, he had a feeling he'd find the small sound emitting device, or a message. But what the lens revealed to him had him falling backwards with a shocked outcry. Grabbing the edge of the cylinder _very_ carefully with his free hand, he pulled himself and the ladder back upright, exclaiming in astonishment, "I can't believe this... you're a _Technomite?!_"

He leaned down, placing his ear flap just above the top of the cylinder. "You don't gotta yell so _loud!_" Slim shouted to him. "Yer gonna deafen me! Or blow me away, one o' the two!"

"Right! Right..." he murmured more quietly, leaning forward with the magnifier once more, focusing in on that minuscule sight in the middle of the cylinder and trying not to breathe too hard. "I... _still_ can't believe it..."

He saw that the Technomite was using a megaphone to make himself be heard. "What? What's so crazy about it? I mean, ya got a guy who lives in a cylinder the size of a bathtub, never comes out, knows all the ins 'n outs of technology... sounds pretty self evident to me. I mean... you don't got anything against Technomites, do ya?"

"No! No... it's just that... well, you guys are so reclusive. What made you decide to try and cut it out in the big world?"

"Oh, come on. Our society under that blow-hard Otto Destruct was stifling! A guy like me can't just be a cog in someone else's machine like that. I had to get out. And heck, the talents I offer became a valuable commodity in... shall we say, the open market of enhancements, as you well know."

Ratchet nodded in amazement, still coming to grips with this unexpected revelation. "Yeah, true... I can totally see your point." And it did make sense for a being similar to himself who felt stifled by an encroaching bureaucracy to strike out on his own. Slim's reputation had spread beyond the Solana Galaxy to the clusters, and was in demand seemingly universe wide. Still, thinking of Slim as a _Technomite?_ "I'm never going to get used to this..." he muttered.

The minuscule creature seemed to be giving him a dirty look. "You'd better mean that in a good way. And this little discussion _doesn't leave the premises_. Right?"

Ratchet gave him an earnest nod. "Who'd believe me anyway?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Otto, for one. He'd like to do nothin' more than to get his kid back - _woops_..."

Ratchet blinked in further shock. "Hold it - _wait a minute_... you're Otto Destruct's _son?!_"

When the tiny Technomite recovered, he exclaimed, "Well, tell the whole dang _universe_, wouldja!"

Ratchet did his best to reign in his emotions, which wasn't easy considering what he'd been going through for the past month. "Uhh... sorry."

"Besides, that's only genetically speaking," Slim added indignantly, causing Ratchet to wonder how many _other_ ways it could go. "Anyhow, show 'n tell's over. I really need to get back to this, or we'll be up all night. Or... I will, that is."

Ratchet gave him a nod, realizing that he would have to take Slim up on the couch offer, murmuring as he climbed down from the short ladder, "Al's never gonna believe this..."

"_What was that?_" the modder snapped as the eyes popped open in the small slot of a viewport.

He winced as he realized what he'd just said, slapping his forehead. "Sorry! Sorry... I'm just tired."

"You _better_ be just tired..." Slim eyed Ratchet suspiciously for a moment as he put the ladder back, and resumed leaning against the tool cabinet to watch the master at work. Growing more at ease with the Lombax after lifting the veil of mystery surrounding himself, he had to ask some questions of his own. "Ya know... this is a lotta firepower I'm addin' here, even for a _heavy_ fighter. So what unlucky fleet are ya takin' on?"

Ratchet stared between his legs at the floor for a long, silent moment, finally confessing, "I don't know..."

Slim didn't quite know what to make of that. "Uhhh... you sure went on a tear for a guy who doesn't know where he's goin'." He thought about asking more direct questions, but the Lombax seemed particularly disheartened just then, and a certain companion had been conspicuously absent this whole time.

Ratchet didn't mean to be evasive, but he did want to know what might slip out unexpectedly. "Slim... have you ever heard of the Zoni?"

"The... _Zoni?_ You mean, those little purple guys who do some good deeds, when they aren't botnappin' some infamous robot every century or so?" he asked back, to which Ratchet nodded somberly. "Eh... maybe."

He jumped to his feet immediately. "Slim, come on. This is important!"

"Hey, hey, idle down, big guy." Ratchet had to smirk to himself wryly; to Slim, everyone was a big guy. "Is it... about yer friend, Clank?"

Ratchet nodded, looking down with a sigh. "Yeah... they took him from me."

"I see..." the Technomite murmured, looking aside for a moment. He wasn't sure how well Ratchet would take to his advice. "I gotta tell ya, though, that... well, ya don't wanna mess with 'em."

"And what makes you say that?" he demanded. "Don't you think I can handle myself around them?"

"Hey, easy now. Don't act like I insulted yer manhood or somethin'." When the Lombax appeared calmer, he went on, "Look... you're the only guy I know who can take on entire hunks of the Cragmite Empire and come out..." He was going to say _unscratched_, but the outcome of that last episode wasn't exactly a crowning achievement. "Well... mostly dead."

Ratchet smirked back to him, muttering, "Inconceivable."

"I don't think you understand the meaning I'm trying to convey here," Slim remarked, weaning the conversation away from old movie dialog. "It's one thing to take on a super-mech and... manage to walk away, after the fact. But these guys have powers 'n stuff. Like... do you even know where they come from?"

Ratchet leaned against the cylinder, admitting regretfully, "No..." But then it occurred to him that the modder might know something of that, slapping his hands against the side of the capsule excitedly. "Hey! Slim, do you--?!"

"Nah, forget that idea, I don't have a clue," the modder told him. As Ratchet groaned in dismay, leaning against the cylinder again, Slim continued, "I think it might be for the best that I don't know, either. See, a very few people tried to chase these things down. One or two got lucky, centuries ago, and they had to get help from the Lombaxes to have a chance in hell."

At first, Ratchet grew excited, thinking he _finally_ had a lead, but his hopes were dashed once more. "So... the only people who might have information on the Zoni's location aren't even in this universe anymore?" He covered his face, groaning in frustration.

"Hey, I'm not done with my lecture yet," Slim told him advisedly. "One evidently got away, and was so freaked out, he never said a word about his experience to anyone. The other..." He let a meaningful silence linger. "Not a trace." When Ratchet stared at the floor silently with what seemed to be a determined look on his face, the Technomite added, "Hey... I'm sayin' this might be a voyage of no return. Is any o' this sinking into that one track mind of yours?"

Ratchet nodded slowly, but said with the determination of steel, "I have to try."

The pair of eyes narrowed as they observed this display of stubbornness. "You uh.... takin' your ship into consideration?"

"I'm not afraid," Aphelion spoke up brightly. "I go where Ratchet directs me."

An amplified sigh came from the cylinder. "Ya know... a lot can be said for havin' an obituary which reads, 'Died of ripe old age.'"

"I know, but you can't say much about a guy who gives up on his friend," Ratchet replied somberly. "Clank risked his life for me a number of times. I can't turn my back on him just because it gets a little rough."

"I don't call nearly bein' blasted to Lombax vapor _a little rough!_ I better not be sendin' you off to get yerself..." His voice broke, and he looked down with an embarrassed cough. "Got... somethin' in my eye units, here..."

He looked up to see Ratchet standing before him, reaching up with an outstretched hand. "Slim, listen... I have to do this. I just have to. I want to say... thanks, for everything. It means a lot to me... more than I can say."

He gazed at the Lombax somberly for a moment, then murmured, "Hold on... this'll have to do." Ratchet heard one of the robot arms on the repair rig swinging over to take his hand gently for a shake. "You can thank me by comin' back alive." As it swung back afterwards, he added under his breath, "Ya damn stubborn dork..."

Ratchet caught it clearly, giving a chuckle. "I promise."

"You better _keep_ that promise, or I won't forgive you." Ratchet knew that was a pretty serious oath, and nodded quietly. Slim flicked his eyes behind him to the couch. "Now... put that pizza away and hit the sack for a while. I have a feelin' it's gonna be a rough day... for a few weeks."

* * *

The Smuggler gunned his ship towards the jump points as if the Cragmite Navy was after him, though he knew it was probably much worse than that. The jump points he was making for led to particularly distant galaxies, which he was sorting through en route. "Hmm... I could go back home to Draco, but... darn, if I don't got warrants out the wazoo there. I'd have more peace 'n quiet at a mother-n-law convention. Maybe... Antilia, or..."

He and the nervous avioid froze as a rasp of energy behind them signaled a sudden arrival. "Or... maybe you'll be waiting for instructions from your _master!_" There was a frantic beating of wings and a thunk as the bird flew as hard as it could into a nook behind the ship's console. A split second later, that disturbing scepter hooked the Sorlek by the throat, jerking and twisting him around to face the angry Cragmite, suspended in his blue-black void.

"_Boss!_" Joe exclaimed fearfully, much too close to that stinking, fang-riddled maw. "I wuz... uhh... just lookin' fer yew--!"

"_Do_ shut up," Tachyon growled at him. "I swear, I have never seen a worse liar in my life."

"Well..." the Smuggler drawled nervously, "I usually do a pretty good job, but... I find it a bit difficult to handle aggressive type-A supernatural tyrants with my usual aplomb, such as yer--"

The Cragmite unhooked him and shoved him back in his seat. "Gah... do you _ever_ stop blathering? And do something about that breath of yours, it reeks."

"Look who's talkin', rigor o' corpus," the Sorlek muttered guardedly, growing a bit calmer as he sensed a reprieve in the works. "Okay, so ya got me. But, surely ya can't blame me for tryin' to find greener... and _safer_ pastures. I mean, ya weren't exactly pattin' me on the back when ya left, ya know."

Tachyon shot him a glare laced with death. "Need I remind you exactly _why I wasn't patting you on the back?_"

He put his hands up as if to placate the ruthless Cragmite. "No! No no no... I got that part down pat. But, somethin' musta happened for you to not be redecoratin' the insides of my ship with... well, _my _insides."

The Sorlek's blood ran cold at the depraved look of glee Tachyon gave him. "I'm glad you understand how things work with my underlings. But... yes, as usual, that blasted Lombax managed to survive, damn him." Joe blinked at the alien in shock, wondering just how stable the creature was. He drummed his spidery fingertips together, adding, "That does prolong the game though... fortunately. Now... this is what I want you to do next," Tachyon rasped, leaning uncomfortably close and running his arm holding the scepter around the reptile's shoulder, touching the metal of his rod to the Sorlek's throat meaningfully. "And _please_ don't mess this up... _Joe_."

"Oh, no, no no no... I'm a quick study," the saurian muttered hastily as he tried to keep that metal device of rulership and torture in view. "Just... gimme the tools to do my job, and... it's as good as done." He added under his breath, "Assumin' I ain't done in the process..."

* * *

Clank returned to find a string of messages from the Archives waiting for him, but the one that truly mattered to him was a notice:

**Guardian Archive M010745836919 (Max Capture) has invited you to a private chat (somethin' wrong, mate?).**

He immediately materialized, gazing up at his friend somberly. Max's opening smile faded as Clank usually had something to say, even when things went wrong. He knelt down, saying, "Oy... c'mon now nippah, it ain't that bad, is it?"

Clank finally found his voice, moaning, "Oh, Max..." This was clearly a struggle, causing the bounty hunter to grow truly worried. "It is... at least, it was. Ratchet..."

Max swallowed nervously as his friend fell silent, as he still had his fleshy-like habits. "Hey, come on now, yer scarin' me. What's the deal?"

Clank tried to begin a few times, but was finally overcome, throwing himself on the robot's boot, wailing, "He... _he died!_ Oh, Max...!"

Alarm seized the bounty hunter, and immediately a thread ran to the universe the Lombax came from. Unerringly, it went to the outlaw ship port where Ratchet's body lay, and he heaved a huge sigh of relief as he was simply asleep, though he was also amazed. Clank was there as well, after a fashion. 'Well, gobsmack me, _it is him--_'

He found himself yanked back to the chat. Clank blubbered to him, "Max... you cannot be doing that... if the Guardian should detect you--"

"Sorry, it just kinda happened," he interrupted, gathering the little robot in his hands, half expecting to see tears on his metallic face. "Lookit you," he said with a thin half smile. "You must really care for 'im, to be so wobbly like that. I mean... he is all right, ya know."

"No, he is _not_," Clank insisted emotionally. "He... has a bullet lodged in his chest, just above his lung, and... it was only for a moment, but... Max, he was _gone_... and, I... I could not be there to protect him..."

"Well, but you--" he began, then realized that Clank might not want him to know about the nano-copy. "--Believe in 'im, doncha?"

"I do... I _did_..." he began, then his emotions overwhelmed him once more. "Oh, I do not know what to believe any more. I know that things are just going to grow worse, for him, as well as our friends. Oh, Max... _I am so afraid for them_..." His voice broke, and he clutched himself to the bounty hunter's worn trenchcoat, whimpering pitifully, but grateful for the embrace as those gentle metallic arms enveloped him. "Max," he murmured faintly, "you are right... he is the most important being in my life... and I care for him deeply... as I do all of my friends, to be sure, but... him, especially _him_..."

Max reflected on his own emotional ties, broken long ago, and to the one which meant the most to him, of the bond to his friend Dex, the one which would never stop hurting. His strength seemed to fail him, his head slumping to rest on Clank's shoulder as he whispered, "I know, mate... I know..."

* * *

It was difficult to sit still as the ship roared into a quantum fold in the fabric of reality, rocketing down a tunnel of rippling light at speeds that outraced light itself. Even at the insane velocity they were traveling, it would take hours to reach their destination, and she wanted to be there so badly, it ached in her gut.

Cronk and Zephyr had grilled Talwyn in their usual merciless though well meaning way, and got the girl to spill just what the situation was. The mood in the starcraft was sullen, the two warbots restless and worried, almost as afraid as Talwyn of what they would find when they reached Zordoom Prison. Cronk tested his arm joints with a shake, determined that this time, that little issue wasn't going to _be_ an issue, causing Zephyr to remark, "Eh-ebd-yeh, if you keep shaking your arms like that, they're gonna fall off anyway, ya silly rust bucket."

"And if _you_ keep checkin' yer weapon," Cronk retorted, causing Zephyr to look at it self-consciously, "the darn thing's liable to _go_ off."

"Guys," Talwyn snapped over her shoulder to ward off the impending bickering. "I'm not in the mood, okay?"

They cast their gaze to the floor plates in remorse, saying together, "We're sorry, Miss Talwyn." Cronk added in a voice rather tender for the gruff old warrior, "We're just... worried about Ratchet, that's all."

"I know..." she replied in a tight voice, wiping at her eyes. She had promised herself that she wasn't going to cry any more, but she was finding it incredibly difficult. He was beautiful... the most incredible being she had ever met. '_Is_ beautiful,' she reminded herself with a sigh. It was funny how different that first reaction was when he had invaded their station, reducing several parts of it to scrap in his usual slash and burn entrance. She saw him as a funny looking, arrogant, proud, scruffy runt with a robot companion as big as a candy dispenser, and thought it wouldn't matter if she dumped two such pests into space if they gave her the slightest provocation. Then, in just a few days, he was risking his life to save hers. The memory caused the tears to flow, but she didn't care any more.

He was amazing. He wasn't just some hot-shot pilot that was full of himself. He was intelligent, thoughtful, kind, capable, heroic... wonderful. It was quite an experience to see him in action. In battle, it was like watching a skilled dancer going through polished, well practiced paces. He had a sixth sense which gave him an uncanny awareness of where enemies were, where threats were lurking, even when weapon fire was streaking towards him. He wasn't perfect, but at the end of it, if the enemy didn't have enough sense to surrender, they weren't around to cause any more trouble. She could tell that at one time, it was like a game with him, though over the years he took it more seriously. But even after years of fighting, he was still light hearted, optimistic, smiling through everything that came his way, good or bad. And he knew so much! There was no electro-mechanical problem he couldn't handle. But, best of all, he knew how to make her smile too...

She realized her reminiscing sounded like a eulogy, and she began blubbering, "It's _not_... he not dead... _he just isn't!_" She could sense her two faithful companions behind her, jumping out of the seat and throwing herself into their arms, crying like a scared little girl, which she was.

_If only I could be there with you, Ratchet... right now... alive or dead..._

* * *

Author's notes

I must apologize to my readers for making a typical squishy mistake. ;P

With a tale of this scope, and a life like I'm stuck with, invariably I'll let something slip. A scene I'd held back for the following chapter wouldn't work sensibly, I realized, so I edited it into this one, just above the final scene with Talwyn. Still a bit out of order, but oh well. Now you have a little bonus material while you wait for the next chapter. I had considered taking a posting hiatus for a while to keep such snafus from happening, and I still might, but we'll see on that. There were some extenuating circumstances which might explain the emotional nature of the last few chapters.

Unfortunately, sad news struck the family over the fall, as my beloved uncle was diagnosed with three fatal cancers. We had known about it for a few weeks, and he passed away the weekend before Christmas. Family deaths are always unsettling, but especially during the holidays, and this one was particularly disruptive and emotional for me. Those of you who have lost loved ones will understand.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25: Passion and warfare**

It was a long, painful night. If it wasn't for his presence, she didn't know how she could have endured it.

_No... please stay. I can't bear the thought of being alone..._

Her hand curled up in his, and despite the torment she bore, she could feel the tenderness in it's warmth, comforted in the midst of this crushing sorrow.

_Just... remind me that you're here... don't let go, or I might fall forever, and never come back..._

The many aspects of his form, alien, but pleasing... she drank it all in, finding strength and sanctuary from the darkness, and the heart of the man she could sense in it clearly, somehow.

_Your scent... like a candle... I can tell how much you care... and it makes the pain bearable..._

She laced her fingers with his, clutching his hand to her heart.

_It hurts... it aches so much, to lose someone so dear to me... stay close to me, please... or I think I'll die too..._

She clung to this presence desperately, feeling that if he ever left, she might not have the strength to go on.

_Please... don't leave me, ever... I couldn't bear the thought of losing you too... how can I make it, without you there...?_

He rose from her, but she could sense the reluctance, smell it in his scent; the care, the regret. The words were hard to form, but she begged him to stay, then chastised herself for the hurt she caused in his voice as he whispered an apology. There was a brush of fingers on her hair, her cheek. She caught her breath as he leaned close, his lips caressing her forehead, a warmth lingering where they touched. She desperately wanted to keep him there, but she couldn't move, couldn't do anything but cry as his presence left her, leaving her alone with the anguish that threatened to consume her.

_Take me with you, please... hold me, like you did before... don't leave me..._

Her eyes fluttered open, and she reached out to clutch for the hand that had been there, her heart twisting when there was nothing. She shook her head at herself, smirking as she thought, 'Wow... these dreams I'm having lately... though, how bittersweet it was. But... that fragrance...'

Her eyes sprang open as she realized it was Busby's. '_It's all over me--!_' she thought in alarm, sitting up in confusion, wondering what had caused something so shocking to be. She clutched under her blanket, sighing in relief. 'Thank heaven, I'm still wearing my clothes--' But suddenly, nothing mattered. Her whole world collapsed, and she fell back to her bed as if stabbed in the belly, staring blankly at her ceiling as the terrible memories of the night came back to haunt her.

_He's dead... Ratchet is gone..._

'That's why my cheeks are moist, my pillow damp... I cried all night, didn't I?' She looked to her left, at the chair pulled up beside her bed, where Busby had sat through the night, trying to be a comfort when the pain threatened to overwhelm her. The sight of it went out of focus as tears welled up in her eyes once more. Her sense of duty reminded her that she was the Captain of the Phoenix and didn't have the luxury of mourning in bed all day. 'One cry... one good cry,' she promised herself as she buried her face in the pillow, pulling the chair against the bed, caressing the cushion and wishing he was still there.

* * *

She showered and dressed as quickly as she could, fighting the urge to collapse in tears once more, and hurried to the bridge. She was insanely late for duty, almost noon, and inexcusable for a ship's officer. 'What must they be thinking?' she fretted in humiliation.

Busby was doing his best to stay awake but failing miserably, beginning to nod off for the umpteenth time that morning when he nearly fell over from a startling shout: "Captain's on the bridge!" He jumped to his feet, the last one to come to attention, turning to face her, his heart twisting at the haggard expression on her face as he saluted her. "Morning, Captain. The Phoenix II is yours."

She forgot to drop the salute for a time, frozen in a moment of despair, her eyes locked in his. She wanted to collapse in his lap, get drunk until she threw up and her mind went black... anything, but this; carrying on as if nothing was wrong. He whispered to her, "Sasha... come on, or I'll start crying too."

She blinked in shock at that admission, saw the sympathy eating at him, dropped the salute and muttered, "Thank you, Busby." She brushed her hand against his as they swapped places, adding in a whisper, "I can't thank you enough." Busby flashed her a warm smile, then had to get down to business. He showed her the status report, indicating that they would be dropping from hyperspace and arriving at Polaris Access Port 16 within the hour. "Oh, Busby," she gasped, "you should have awakened me earlier."

"Hey, you were in bad shape, and exhausted. You needed sleep. The ship's doing fine. They really don't need us except to deal with port issues or combat. This really is a top notch crew."

"I know, Busby, but listen... no more coddling, okay? I have to be at my duty station, just like everyone else, even if... well, I am an emotional wreck." She had to face away from him as he visibly wilted at her admission, sorry that she had been so frank with him. "I'm no more special than... you are." She thought as their eyes met that, no, that was wrong; he was a very special man.

He swallowed, beginning to say, "Uh... well, I was hoping that maybe I, uh... could be..." He coughed self-consciously as he realized how that sounded, adding, "I mean, I could... really use a nap, after lunch."

After an initial eye-popping reaction, she chuckled in relief, patting his arm. "I think that could be arranged, Busby."

"I appreciate it. And, uhm... well... now that _that's_ all over with, the ship's all yours," he told her, beckoning to the Captain's chair.

She hesitated before taking her seat as a few of the crew were eying her in wonder, and she did need to address this situation. She cleared her throat to get her voice working, though it wasn't very strong yet, and she had trouble finding words, clasping her hands together as the crew faced her. "Guys... listen up. Uhm... I'm sure you know by now that... word has come to me that Ratchet invaded a Cragmite stronghold, Zordoom Prison on Visceron, and... may have been..." She licked her lips, murmuring hollowly as she wiped her cheek, "Fatally wounded. We were rather close, and... I'm afraid I'm not dealing with this very well. I beg your forgiveness for my behavior, and ask that you bear with me. It'll be over with, soon, I promise you."

A murmur of understanding arose from the group, and she continued. "You also realize, of course, that I have ordered the Phoenix to invade Cragmite space in an incursion of planet Visceron. I must stress to you all that this is nothing less than an act of war. I assume all responsibility for this decision, but whatever comes of this action... we will either rescue Ratchet, or..." She choked back a sob, murmuring, "Bring back his remains... for proper burial." She took a breath to settle herself, wiping at her eye and sweeping the room with her gaze. "I know this is reckless, and... smacks of abuse of power for personal issues, but... after what Ratchet has done for the people of three galaxies, I believe we owe him at least this much... to bring him home where he belongs." To her surprise, she saw in the eyes of her crew the look of a committed team, supporting her, and in particular, in the gaze of her Number One. Squeezing her hands to keep them still, she concluded, "I'm going to formulate invasion plans with the ranking officers of the Phoenix and Brigade One-nineteen. I know that... with your help and support, there's no way we're going to fail. Now... carry on with your duties, and continue to make me proud of you."

She took her seat, wiping her cheek again as she struggled with the emotions stirred up afresh from her speech. Busby summoned his chair to her side with a remote, saying to her quietly, "Now I know why you scored so high in Oratory at the Academy. You always manage to find something encouraging to say."

"Oh, Busby," she murmured with a blush, "that was one of my worst speeches ever."

"Well then, your scores don't do you justice. And the crew liked it, and that's what counts," he insisted.

She looked into his eyes as something occurred to her. "You've been reading up on me."

"Well..." he shrugged self-consciously, "yeah. I mean... I like to know who my Captain is."

A thin smile began to spread across her lips as she returned his gaze, saying, "Well, to be honest, I've read up on you too, because... I like to know who I can rely on." The pause grew long as she forgot to mention her point, and looked aside with a cough. "And, uhm... I know you happen to be a strategist, so I hope you'll tell me that you've been working on something for me."

"Oh, you bet," he began excitedly. "At least... in between little cat naps." She had to giggle at the thought that he had been napping on duty, and in full view of the crew! Somehow, he had a way of cheering her up, even if briefly, and she admired this wacky, geeky gentleman as he pulled out his tablet to go over the outline of his invasion plan. They found themselves gazing into each others eyes again after a few moments, Busby studying her face, and she was content to let him as he had pretty hazel eyes. He asked her softly, "Hey... how do you feel?"

She couldn't keep from slumping a bit, nor could she keep from replying honestly. "Like... being punched in the stomach." She closed her eyes as he placed his hand over hers, thinking of how he had undoubtedly exhausted himself at her side through the night, stroking his fingers with her thumb. She felt embarrassed over what must have slipped out in her half awake, distraught condition, but at the same time... not. "Busby..." she said faintly, "thank you for... spending that time with me. You are... just... the most surprising... individual I've ever had the good fortune to know. I'm very, very lucky to have you as my First."

He looked down with a sheepish grin, blushing as he said, "Well... it's nice to know I'm such an _individual_. But you haven't seen anything 'til I've done my card tricks."

She blurted out a little laugh, amazed at that uncanny knack he had for making innocuous words the funniest things she'd ever heard, even in this bleak time. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand from his, as they were visible to much of the bridge crew, and she had probably indulged herself a bit too much in his attention. "Well... we'd... better get on with this. I don't think the Cragmites will grant us any extra time to work on an advantage to blast them with."

"Yeah, that's true," he muttered, trying not to sound disappointed. After all, it had been some time since he'd been able to impress a pretty girl, and this one was beginning to mean a lot to him.

* * *

The Phoenix II flashed out of the hyperspace wormhole, slowing as it approached Access Port Sixteen, or Strait Sixteen as it was sometimes called from surface shipping terms. All vessels legally entering the galaxies of the clusters had to be admitted by the Galactic Authority, especially if they were military ships. With the threat of open war from the Cragmite Empire, the broad Naval corridors of A.P. 16 were devoid of traffic, and had been for weeks. Commodore Shappley had no chance to be bored, as he scanned reports of Cragmite activity filtering in, though he hated being stuck at such a remote outpost. Something caught his eye and he muttered, "Now... why are there signs of action around Visceron? That's mostly a prison world--"

"Sir?" interrupted his helmsman. "We have a vessel inbound... the CHC-117, UFS Phoenix II of the Solana Navy."

At first the Commodore was excited, thinking that support from the other galaxies was finally coming, or perhaps even a rare chance it was the Alliance. But as he watched the main display, he blinked in confusion. "That's _it? One blasted ship?!_"

"Uhh... that's all I have, sir," the helmsman reported.

The Commodore was incredulous. "That is a bloody big vessel, but still... what the devil are they thinking!"

"Captain? I have the commander of the CHC-98, RCS Unfazed," Lieutenant Chatterly informed her. "On the main screen."

Sasha thanked her, standing to face the display as the image of the Resistance commander came into view. "Commodore Shappley, this is Captain Sasha Phyronyx of the CHC-117, UFS Phoenix II of the Solana Navy, and I humbly request the hospitality of your space and ports." She finished with a dignified bow, but froze when the sound of an irate snort came over the speakers. She stood quickly, seeing a commander that indeed wasn't happy as her brow knit in concern. "Is there a problem with my request?"

"Is there a problem..." the Commodore growled. "The Polaris Galaxy is on the brink of open war! And _this_ is the best the fleets of our neighbors can muster up? _One heavy cruiser?!_ Don't insult us!"

Sasha pressed her lips worriedly as she wracked her brain for a diplomatic solution. "Commodore, I understand your disappointment, but my mission is completely independent from the Solana Navy. Any large fleet movements by any group would be reckless--"

"And what do you call one lone commander wanting to go gallivanting around in our galaxy with tensions as high as they are!" he interrupted. "A maverick vessel running loose in this environment is a disaster in search of an incident to trigger it! Go back and play Navy in your own galaxy! Return when Solana is serious about helping us, with an actual Fleet next time!"

"But Commodore," she protested, "something is going on in your galaxy which is responsible for the trouble you're in, and far more besides! If you would just allow--"

"Request _denied_, Captain!" he snapped. "Do I have to resort to force to get your attention?!"

She feared this reaction, closing her eyes with an exasperated gasp as she sat in her chair, murmuring, "I really... _seriously_ don't need this right now." Then something occurred to her, and she said quietly as she drew up her keyboard, "Mister Mimo... do you remember how the lights gave us problems back at the dock? I want you to fire them up."

He blinked as he realized what she was driving at, as did most of the bridge crew, looking to his display as she typed to him, _9 seconds, then jump_. "Uhh.. full power, ma'am?"

Her eyes focused sharply forward as she murmured to the Helmsman, "Affirmative, Mister Mimo."

Not liking what he was witnessing on his monitor, the Commodore asked meaningfully, "Captain, _are you_ going to comply with my decision?"

Helmut Warhelm was a little slow, but it was hard to miss the drama simmering on the bridge, beginning to worry as the others braced themselves. "Err... is there szomething you vould like to tell your beloved Security Offisah?" he asked with a raised finger.

"Not _now_, Helmut," she grumbled, adding quietly as the First Officer came to her side, "Hold on, Busby."

He looked out the front viewport at the starship opposite, and how it was directly in front of them. "Uhh... are you about to do what I _think_ you're about to do?"

"Now!" Sasha cried, gripping her chair as a dull roar rumbled throughout the deck and the ship lurched forward.

"I guess so!" Busby grabbed onto her chair as he planted his feet behind him, saying nervously in her ear as the starship in front of them grew larger, "Did I mention that I have a mortal fear of ship ramming?!"

The artificial gravity afforded a good deal of inertial damping, but it couldn't completely erase the rules of physics, and all through the ship, everything not bolted down began to slide towards the rear. The arts and crafts club was particularly hard hit. In the kitchen, Chef Sven's eyes opened in alarm as the large mixing machine came out of its moorings and began rolling to the back of the room. He threw himself behind it as the others gaped in shock, holding on and fighting a losing battle to stop the machine, crying frantically, "Der mashed taters... _der mashed taters!_" Finally the wall of the kitchen stopped them both, though not the creamy mixture as much of it sloshed out of the huge bowl, coating him and the wall with the starchy mess. Coughing it out of his throat and nose, he muttered sourly, "Well, fargin' poo gas... needs salt too..."

"The bloody _fool!_" the commander exclaimed as he watched the Phoenix accelerate right towards him, crying, "Ramming alert!" as the red lights began to flash in warning all through the ship. As the helmsman shouted the alert over the intercom, the Commodore watched in disbelief as the alien cruiser raced onward. "What is she trying to prove!"

Sasha watched nervously as her own helmsman made some last second adjustments, noticing that the Unfazed was coming up uncomfortably fast, and moments from impact. "Dakkar, pull hard to starboard if you aren't ready--!"

"_Got it!_" he shouted as a glare surrounded the vessel.

Just as it seemed that the Phoenix was going to collide with his ship, the Commodore throwing his arms in front of his face in reflex, a blaze of hyper-energy flared in front of him. He looked up in shock, swearing that, for an instant, he saw the ghostly bridge of the Phoenix II and its crew all around him, and square in front of him, the Captain with a determined look on her face. He fell back in his seat in astonishment, gasping, "That is... the most reckless... outrageous... insane... _gutsy_ move I have seen in my entire life!" Realizing that the alarms were still sounding, he shouted, "Cancel the alert!"

When he could speak again, the First Officer asked, "We are going to report this, aren't we?"

"Yes..." the Commodore drawled, adding as the First turned began to type something up at his console, "Wait! I'll file a report presently... I have to consider this carefully, though..."

The First Officer was puzzled. "Why wouldn't you file this immediately, sir?"

"Because something is up. If I just now file something standard about a renegade cruiser in our space, it may cause a disturbance that might jeopardize what the Captain is pursuing." Commodore Shappley rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he consulted a file. "This Captain, Phyronyx, is the one who was instrumental in defeating both an invasion by Tyhrranoids, and a genocidal plot by some villainous robot going by the name of Doctor Nefarious. Retiring for a few years, something caused her to re-enter the service, and it had to be rather significant. And then there was what she said..." He motioned to the Communications Officer. "Replay that transmission. I'll control it from here."

He watched as the Cazar gazed out of the screen with an urgent expression on her face. "Commodore, I understand your disappointment, but my mission is completely independent from the Solana Navy. Any large fleet movements by any group would be reckless--"

His voice interrupted, "And what do you call one lone commander wanting to--!" He jumped ahead to her next remarks.

"But Commodore," she insisted, "something is going on in your galaxy which is responsible for the trouble you're in, and far more besides! If you would just allow--"

He stopped the replay, frowning in consternation. "A threat... _other_ than the Cragmites?"

"Can we take that seriously, sir?" the First asked him.

"Yes... I think so. What it means is... well, anyone's guess at this point. I do have to wonder just what in hell that woman hopes to accomplish. If only she had said something more definite..." He cast a glance over his shoulder, as if to see what was going on in the galaxy behind them. "We'll just have to trust that the Captain knows what she's doing."

* * *

'Do I even know what I'm doing anymore?' she asked herself rhetorically.

In the hours prior to an invasion, Navy spacemen worked off their stress in their own way. In Sasha's case, she went to the gym, joining some of the other crew members as they relieved their nervous tension. Sasha was jogging around the track which circled the facility in violet shorts and t-shirt, her mind swimming with a multitude of thoughts, though they were swept away each time she passed Busby, working out on a weight machine.

Somehow, he always found a way to inject humor into the most glum, boring situation, and the post-jump report at the invasion planning meeting was no exception. "Well, the chess club is in pieces, the rec room's a wreck, and the mess hall is a--"

"No, Busby, _please!_" she laughed with the other officers, the first time she had done so in a good long while. It felt good to laugh again, and his presence was like a lamp in a stormy night.

She smiled at the memory as she made another circuit, watching as he thrust his legs into a bench press, eying the bare muscles of his slender legs. He was surprisingly well muscled for such an average build, she noticed. 'And... I really need to stop doing that,' she muttered to herself, but it was hard, incredibly hard.

She was a very independent girl, proudly so, except when it came to mortal tragedies. When her mother passed away, she clung desperately to her father in the depths of her anguish. Unfortunately, he was busy with his career in the Marcadian Council and couldn't always be there for her, making her seize onto him all the more fiercely when he was, resenting him bitterly for a while when he wasn't. Death hit her very hard in her young adult years, making her question her life in the Navy on occasion. So far, she had remained level headed for the most part at the loss of a crewman, though she did take the responsibility very personally. But this... the one person she couldn't bear to lose other than her father... the one who promised that he would come back to her... the one she loved dearly... the pain of this loss threatened to break her.

She began crying again, but at least on the track, she could and no one would know. It was as much from frustration as pain. She needed time to mourn. She needed to be free of the burdens of her authority. She needed desperately to be in his arms, and she was afraid that it was getting out of hand. He was noticing her each time she passed him. She could feel his eyes on her, admiring her, and it was strange, but she wanted him to. Just as she was admiring him. She felt foolish, confused, and angry at herself. It was stupid, as stupid as could be, and insulting to the memory of Ratchet. 'I have to stop this, before it gets any further,' she scolded herself. 'I don't think of him like... that.'

_But what do you think of him as? And how can you blame him if he does think of you like "that"?_

She didn't have an answer for those questions, but she did have anger, fear and frustration at being stuck in an intolerable situation. 'What can I do? I can't handle this sorrow alone... and the one person I can turn to... perhaps I shouldn't... oh, _I hate this!_' Her mind rebelled under a wave of despair, the world melting away in tears as her legs gave out from under her and she fell. She reflected dimly on her father as she lay there sobbing, usually so strong, but at that terrible dark time that fell on them both, how he would sometimes drink himself unconscious. 'Father... what's wrong with us? How can we be so strong in so many ways... but in this, so weak? It's not fair... _so unfair_...'

He was there like a knight in shining armor, blurred by her tears, extending his hand to help her up, and her heart melted in gratitude. "Oh, Busby... thank--"

But something was wrong... it wasn't his hand, or his scent, and the voice of someone else spoke to her. "Uhh... sorry ma'am, it's not Mister Birdwell." Wiping her tears away, she saw that it was Lieutenant Tesla's second, Leftenant Pulverizer. Busby was behind him, gazing at her in concern, perhaps something more, and suddenly it was all too much.

She had to get away, saying quietly as she looked about the small crowd which gathered around her, "Thh... thank you, Mister Pulverizer. I'm fine, really... just... fell. I... really should go, I have way too much to do." Her heart wilted at the expression on Busby's face, but she was afraid of what might happen in this emotional state if she stayed. She hastened to the women's locker room to grab her things, bolted from it as if chased by demons, ignoring everyone she raced by, and didn't slow down until she was securely locked in her quarters. She dropped her bag and threw herself on her bed, burying her face in her pillow, and wept almost hysterically. 'This is what I should have done to start with,' she realized. 'A good, hard, cathartic cry...' But still, she ached to have him there, so that this dreadful anguish wasn't her only companion.

'Oh, Ratchet... where are you? What are you going through right now? And how in the world am I going to get through this awful time...?'

Busby hesitated outside her door, his finger poised over the call button, but he could hear her faintly through the door and turned away sadly. 'I guess... I did this to you, didn't I? Why else would you run from me like that? I'm sorry, Sash - _Captain_...'

* * *

Talwyn ate a quick meal of survival chow as the ship sailed down the glowing passage transgressing time and space. She was at least over her tears now, though a gnawing fear and loathing ate at her as they approached the end of the wormhole, and the world where Ratchet was. She wished that she could have waited for Sasha, maybe made a call to Angela to see what she was doing, but she couldn't have endured it, not another moment of just sitting and waiting. In particular, Sasha was two whole galaxies away, and had to deal with the rules of her Navy. Who knew how long that would take? And she needed to get to Ratchet quickly, if for no other reason than to claim his body. What a dreadful thought...

Her instruments told her that arrival was less than a half hour away. "Guys," she began, looking over her shoulder to the two old warbots, but saw that they were asleep, conserving energy for the battle to come. She briefly resented them doing this to her, but she knew that's just what robots did. Watching them for a moment, leaning against each other, she reflected on how devoted they were to her, and how much she loved them. "You guys are the biggest, coolest link to my father," she sighed, reaching into her pouch to rub a cone of ivory. "Please, Fang... don't let them die. I couldn't stand to lose them too..."

* * *

It was a miserable shower, a miserable half-eaten meal, and a miserable time at her seat on the bridge. Busby was distinctly quiet around her, making them both feel uncomfortable, but she couldn't bring herself to speak with him out in the open as they were. And with the invasion of Visceron looming, she wouldn't have a chance for privacy with him until afterwards, which might be some time. She wanted to talk badly, to clear away any misconceptions, but they were both at the mercy of the mission schedule, sweeping them relentlessly forward. Her stomach churned bitterly as the Phoenix emerged on the far end of the planetary system which had claimed the life of the one she loved.

As Mister Mimo maneuvered them through an asteroid belt to a point where they might be able to discreetly monitor the planet, the crew made ready for the first step in Busby's plan. "Okay people, it's showtime," Sasha declared, looking to the display in front of her, in which several crewmen were preparing a special robot for deployment. "Scout, are you ready?"

It was a rocket, specially designed for spying and deception, and it winked a light at her. "Yes ma'am, I'm good to go."

"Okay, get him deployed," she ordered, crossing her fingers. "And godspeed."

They fired him off towards Visceron, though he made a strategic stop behind Barros, generating the signature of an attack ship using countermeasures. He fired a small missile which streaked on ahead, scanning and relaying data on the forces around Visceron, intent on reaching the Prison compound itself if possible. "Are you guys gettin' all this?" he whispered; not that it really made a difference, but he was caught up in the excitement of the mission.

"Yes," she replied with a nod. "Busby, you were right... a nuclear missile carrier supported by six squadrons of Imperial Cruisers. Quite a mission group, just to safeguard a prison."

"Cragmite battle philosophy was my minor at the Academy," he said proudly from his station. "And they always overreact after a defeat, especially if it's from a Lomba--" He cut himself off too late, and as they looked to each other, he murmured, "I'm sorry, Sash... Captain."

She winced in consternation, muttering as she took a breath to settle her nervous stomach, "Never mind, Busby... it's all right." She looked to him in wonder of his change in attitude. 'Now he won't even say my _name?_'

"Ah oh..." It was Scout.

Sasha looked up sharply at the display. "What, what is it?"

"A ship just came out of aich jay," he reported quietly. "I thought it might'a been a prisoner transport, but it's too small. It pings as... a civilian ship, the Odyssey Beta, and she's smack in the middle of that mission group."

"Oh my God," Sasha gasped, "_Talwyn!_"

The girl looked around her, blinking in shock, as she found herself surrounded by what looked to be an entire Cragmite fleet. "Guys!" she yelled as she gunned the engines. "We got _company!_" She looked to her console as a Cragmite began growling in his distasteful language at her, translated at the bottom. "Yield, puny alien food, at my bloated and admirable self! Devouring will not be an option as you extend the proper appendage!"

"I'll extend something at you, all right!" she growled as the two warbots came to either side of her seat.

"Holy molex!" they shouted. Cronk looked to Zephyr, asking, "How many bolts do you have? Maybe we can bribe our way out."

"I don't think bribery is an option!" Talwyn cried as weapon fire began erupting around them, then blinked as another screen popped open with a familiar face. "Sasha?! How--!"

"Talwyn, get out of there as fast as you can!" she exclaimed. On the bridge behind her, sirens and red lights indicated the call to battle stations. "We'll attack them, but we can't until you're safely out of the area!"

"Working on it," she growled as she tried to put some distance between herself and a group of Cruisers beginning to pursue her. "Cronk, man that turret!" But then a frightening thought hit her as the warbot squirmed into the tight quarters of the turret controls. "Ohmygod... Sasha, your warning... you gave away your position!"

"I know hon, but--" She stopped short as there were flashes outside of the ship, followed a second later by the sound of countless objects banging into the hull, jarring the entire vessel. The lights dimmed briefly, and through the front viewport, they could see a cloud of rocks shooting past.

Busby checked his scanners, shouting, "What the heck... they put explosives in the asteroids! It's a huge remote controlled minefield!"

"Mimo, get us out of here and into that battle!" Sasha screamed in frustration. "Okay everyone, Hail Mary! And Busby, jam any more trigger signals! Sneaky bastards... if you want a fight, you got it!"

He gaped at her in both shock and admiration as a series of rumbles from missile fire vibrated through the ship. It was one thing to read about a legendary commander's performance, it was another to see it in action up close. He bore a thin smile as he turned back to his console, murmuring, "Combat seems to be just what the doctor ordered."

"Mister Boil!" she called to the Weapons Officer. "What's the range to that battle group!"

"Uhh..." He checked his reading, centered on the enemy missile carrier. "About three light minutes yet, ma'am. Looks like we'll arrive there in twenty minutes."

It was too far to safely use the particle cannons. "All right, lock onto that damned missile carrier and give it a big salvo--!" she began. Then everyone gasped as there was a solid collision against the ship and half the systems went down, including most of the lights. "Busby! Redirect power to essential systems!" Sasha ordered in the dimness. "On the double!"

"Yes _ma'am!_" he replied, looking over the system grid for all the unessential operations. "I hope no one's in the showers because hot water's going down." He noticed Chief Engineer Tesla helping out from the engine room, although the rerouting stopped just then, and his heart sank. "Oh, crap... I hope that's not a bad thing..."

She called up an integrity assessment on her chair display, seeing that the Engineering Section had taken a punishing hit. "Oh, please," she murmured, "no casualties..."

The hull had buckled from a serious asteroid impact, and a row of the main transformers was pushed sideways, a massive power cable sparking at a junction overhead and threatening to come loose. Tesla shouted to the crewmen cowering to the side, "Get out of the way now! Electrical crew, get on that cable--!" Everyone scattered as it finally gave way, though an unlucky pair directly below it dropped to the floor with a cry. The Engineer froze in horror as one of them was Pulverizer, unable to do more than watch as the cable threatened to sweep across his body, sparking with lethal current. Suddenly it stopped, and he watched in relief as it was grabbed by one of the robots, lifted back towards the junction by his thruster.

"Status, people!" Sasha called to the bridge crew, and in order, the assessments came in. Defenses 35%, weapons systems 25%, main computer zero, scanners 30%, life support 80%, engines 99%. "Great, we can fly all over the universe blind and defenseless! _Mister Tesla!_" Sasha called over the intercom. "This ship is crippled! We need that power back on line _immediately_, or we might not be going home!"

The Engineer fell back to his console, continuing to redirect power resources, as he wasn't sure how long this would take. "Uhh, aye Captain, we're seeing to it presently!"

"A number of weapons systems are still down!" she exclaimed. "I need it _right this second!_"

The robot looked down to the crew still getting organized, and at his friend Frank Pulverizer, having just got to know him. "I have but one existence to give for my galaxy..." he sighed resignedly, shoving one hand into the deadly cable and grabbing a thick strand, reaching across towards the junction unit with the other. Everyone looked up as sparks flew, and an angry buzz filled the chamber as a massive charge of electricity surged through the body of the frazzled robot to the conduit, feeding the rest of the ship its life giving power.

"No!" Pulverizer shouted. "Roby! Dude... _no!_"

"Yes!" Sasha cried in jubilation as the lights flickered on. "Thank you, Mick, you saved our lives!"

"I'd... love to take the credit, Captain, but you owe it to your crew," he muttered, "one in particular." Cutting off the intercom at his end, he yelled, "All right, get him outta there and a cable spliced in!"

She didn't have time to note the irony in the Chief's voice, returning her attention back to the battle. As she was about to direct the Weapons Officer to launch an attack, he interrupted her, pointing to the main screen. "Ma'am, we got problems."

She looked up in shock as it looked like hundreds of missiles were streaking towards them. Making a quick estimate, she saw there was still time to act. "Okay... launch that salvo, Peter! Coordinate missile defense with Busby! Hit them with blasters and interceptors! Use E, H, L and M countermeasures--!"

"F, L, M and Que!" came a strongly accented voice from the front of the bridge. Raoul was on the main screen, having rebooted and generated a head for himself. He said in explanation, "Zey're missyles are opgraded, _mon Capitain!_"

"Fine," she decided, "you three sort out defense!" She turned her attention back to Talwyn's message, shouting, "Talwyn, get out of there immediately!"

She was frustrated at being unable to shake the Cruisers on her tail, but replied, "Hold on, they're not landing a shot on me!"

Zephyr informed her, "Miss Talwyn, they're just toying with us, that's all."

"Thanks a _lot_, Zephyr!" she growled. "That's not bolstering our self-confidence here!"

"Talwyn, hon, just _go!_ There are nukes headed your way!" Sasha cried.

"But... what about Ratchet!" she shouted back.

Sasha was growing frantic at the girl's belligerence. "Talwyn, honey, those are Cragmites! You don't want to fall into their clutches! And you don't want to be _anywhere_ nearby when those warheads go off! Just leave! Jump out and we'll rendezvous later when it's safe! _Please!_ If you get killed, I don't know what I'll do!"

She stared at the screen for a torn moment, jarred back to reality when a blast rang off her wing. Zephyr blurted out after a string of garbled syllables, "Miss Talwyn, you really should listen to her!"

"Okay, _okay!_" she cried. "But we're hooking up right after this to rescue Ratchet, right?!" She gave a cry of alarm as blaster fire began scoring hits on her ship. "Cronk, are you hitting _anything?!_"

"Yeah," he called back, "but mostly, I think I'm makin' 'em mad."

Sasha's stomach tied itself in a knot. "She might not make it anyway... _Mister Boil!_" she exclaimed. "Fire small yields at those Cruisers in pursuit of the Odyssey Beta! And make _damned_ sure you don't tag that civilian! That's an Apogee in that ship!"

"Will do, ma'am," he replied.

Sasha sat on the edge of her seat, her fists clenched, murmuring, "There's too much happening at once... damn this stupid fuster cluck." Somewhere above the Phoenix there was a dazzling glare, followed seconds later by a shockwave that roared through the body of the vessel. One of the Cragmite warheads had made it through their defenses, but detonated on a phantom ship generated by the countermeasures. "Oh, my God..." she gasped, "that was too close..."

"Hit... _direct hit on the carrier!_" the Weapons Officer cried, and a shout of jubilation swept through the crew as the enemy ship broke apart.

"Thank heaven," Sasha murmured, "that's one major problem out of the way. But... what about Talwyn!" She looked to the tactical display on the main screen, seeing the Cruisers dogging the small civilian explorer, the missiles closing in on them. She crossed her fingers, watching anxiously. One by one, the salvo homed in on their targets, and gradually, the Cruisers were destroyed or disabled... except for the one in the lead. She gasped as there was a flare of light and her ship was gone, heaving a tremendous sigh of relief as it was just the hyperdrive signature. "Surely... they can't know where she's headed..." the Cazar whispered, as if in prayer.

Tachyon has been watching this battle in disgust, but as Talwyn made her escape, he eyed the small vessel closely as it winked out of this universe. "I wonder... where..." he began, thinking through recent events. "Order that incredibly lucky crew in pursuit to jump to Odum."

* * *

Talwyn resented being pushed off like that, muttering as the ship plunged down the wormhole, "I'm tired of everyone thinking I'm just a little girl!" She looked up with a blink at the sound of continuing turret fire, exclaiming, "Cronk? What the hell are you shooting at!"

He descended from the turret controls, muttering, "Just... takin' a little target practice..."

"At the inside of a _wormhole?_" she muttered with a smirk as he came to stand sheepishly beside his fellow warbot.

Zephyr floundered through a few syllables as he usually did at the start of a speech. "Miss Talwyn, we don't doubt you at all. Not for a second, no ma'am!"

"But I don't think the Cragymites were too impressed with you..." Cronk added. "This time, or when you were captured before."

Talwyn gripped the controls sourly. "Guys, come on... you don't have to remind me of every time I flopped. Besides, the first time it was Drophyds."

She sighed as the warbots looked away, Zephyr offering weakly, "W-well... we were just sayin'..."

"I know... it just smarts to be told to go away." She added with a mutter, "Especially by a rival... even if she is right..." She felt a little better as the ship emerged in the normal space near Odum. "At least I can do something worthwhile here, and see if I can get a clue as to what Ratchet was up to." She added feebly, "And Ratchet... you'd _better still_ be up to something..."

They all looked up in shock to see blaster fire streaking past them. Talwyn checked her sensors to find at least one Cruiser closing on them from the rear, exclaiming, "What the... _there's no way!_" She looked over her shoulder to see Cronk already struggling to get back into the turret compartment. "_Please_ hit something vital this time!" She eyed the communicator in the console, knowing she would need help.

"_Damn_ it! Stupid shield is slowin' me down! I knew it would!" the feloid cried as he checked his performance readout. "Uhh... one percent isn't a lot, is it?"

"Uhm... I dunno. I don't _think_ so..." Crunch replied over the radio as he joined his companion off the right wing. "But dude, I think Ratchet was right. It was gettin' pricey payin' off the Port Boss, and he was cuttin' less slack each inspection. Besides, comin' back to port was gettin' kinda scary."

He scowled at the fellow racer, hating to be reminded of his own re-entry fears. "Hey, it just... adds a thrill to speed runs, ya know?"

"Yeah, but I don't need that kinda... _yeow!_"

Slab blinked in shock at his friend's outcry, looking around. "Dude, what is - _crap!_" he exclaimed as streaks of light just missed him, coming from some unseen source among the stars.

As they separated to avoid the weapons fire streaking past, a call came over the communicator. "Mayday, _mayday!_ This is Talwyn Apogee in the Odyssey Beta! I have a Cragmite Cruiser on my tail! Any ships in the Odum area, I need assistance _right now!_"

"This is Port Captain Shlufski," the Boss replied. "If ya manage to make atmosphere, the Cruiser shouldn't follow. I'm afraid that, because of our worthless politicians, we have no naval vessels to come to your aid."

"Oh, I can't freaking believe this... I may not make Odum at this rate!" she cried.

"Babe, you said the wrong word," Slab sent to her. "Ain't no one around here gonna come take on a Cragmite ship." He hesitated for half a beat, thinking of how Ratchet would probably face off against the Cruiser with just a wrench if he had to. Besides... she sounded pretty. "But we will, hold on!"

"Who're you calling _babe!_" Talwyn shouted.

"We _will?!_" Crunch exclaimed.

"Sure! Squeeze play!" he shouted as the explorer raced past, the Imperial Cruiser coming up from the rear. "You take the front."

"Do I have to?"

"_Yes_, you have to! Come on! This is our big chance to show we're worth somethin'!" Slab replied as he looped over to pursue the Cruiser from the rear.

"Uh... no offense or anything, but you two sound like a couple of racer punks," Talwyn called to them. "Like... what's wrong with your communicators? Why don't you have a video feed?"

Slab replied hesitantly, "It, uhh... kinda broke."

"Broke?! You mean you can't even maintain--!" She cringed as blaster fire crashed against the roof. "No thanks! I'll see if I can manage! I don't need you two scrap heads running into each other trying to impress me!"

"Sorry babe," he replied, "not an option! Crunch, _arm your torpedo!_"

"Torpedo?!" Talwyn said in disbelief. "And stop calling me _babe!_"

The two starspeeders were converted fighter ships, and Slab found to his amazement that it still had a working targeting system, which he used to practice garbage bombing on asteroids. They used old auxiliary fuel tanks loaded with explosives and spare fuel to deter police who frowned on their racing runs. The explosions they caused were spectacular, and Slab was sure they were spectacular enough to cause some damage to an Imperial Cruiser. "I'm tired o' you fish heads pushin' us around anyway," he grumbled as he activated the targeting system, thumping the console a couple of times to bring it up, and racing ahead a bit to start a dive from the side.

"They aren't _fish heads_, brain trust, not this time--" Talwyn winced as energy beams glanced off of the fuselage beside the cockpit. "They're _Cragmites!_"

"What's the difference?" Slab responded haughtily. "I bet they both sizzle the same when they fry up."

"I can't believe this... they're gonna try it!" Talwyn called back to Cronk, "Watch out for those two idiots! Don't help them kill themselves!" She instinctively ducked as a pair of bolts struck the rear of the fuselage. "But... if they're gonna do something, it would be nice if they'd hurry the hell up..."

The two Cragmites in the cockpit of the Cruiser were having a jolly time toying with the explorer. Another one came from behind, pointing out the viewshield to the side at the distant exhaust of a starspeeder. The pilot glanced at it for a moment, waving in dismissal with a sound like an angry belch.

"Heh! Ignore us at your peril, sushi bait!" Slab cried as the release calculator showed an impact in the middle of the vessel's back. "Torpedoes away!" It was only one and a bomb if anything, but it was a fairly good sized fuel tank, and armored to withstand re-entry. He watched as it began to spiral, threatening to tumble. "Naw, come on now... straighten up!" he shouted, as if it would respond to his command. Amazingly, it seemed to, tightening the spiral along its axis. The two Cragmites tormenting Talwyn stopped in mid-taunt when a collision alarm began to sound. They looked over their shoulders, just able to see the black fuel tank spinning towards their ship, watching in fascination as it buried itself in the hull just forward of the engines, then looked to each other in perplexion.

Slab wasn't amused, growling, "Aw, come _on!_ That was a perfect hit, you freakin'--!" He was caught off guard as it exploded, pulling away to avoid the fire and debris erupting from the vessel. "Woah! Now that's more like it! Finish 'er off, Crunch!"

"Hey, this is actually workin'!" his friend shouted. "Bombs away!"

"It _is?!_" Talwyn looked to the rear view incredulously as the enemy fire halted. "Wha... I can't believe it!"

The Cragmites were outraged at the attack crippling their ship, ranting to each other, until they looked up to see the other starspeeder shoot past, then at an object streaking straight at the cockpit, hugging each other's rubbery bodies in terror. The streamlined tank smashed right through the viewshield and kept going, detonating in the rear of the cabin, fire streaming from the dying warship. The transmission rang with triumphant laughter from the two racers, Slab shouting, "Fives, high 'n low!"

Talwyn closed her eyes, shaking her head with an exhausted chuckle as the Cruiser veered away aimlessly, fire spreading through the ship until it finally exploded. "Wow... of all the nail biters..." She keyed the communicator, beginning saucily, "All right you two hot shots, don't break your arms patting yourselves on the back or anything, but... thanks. We owe you our lives."

"Hey..." Crunch asked hesitantly, hoping for another female, "so... there's more'n one of you?"

"Three to be exact!" declared Zephyr crustily as his fellow landed on his head from the difficulty of his extraction from the turret control. The feloid gasped as the old warbot continued, "Along with this lovely - and spoken for - young lady, you have the legendary Commanders Zephyr and Cronk."

"I prefer Cronk and Zephyr," the other muttered, causing Zephyr to look up at him sharply.

Talwyn restrained a chuckle. "So, who do I owe my thanks to?"

"Well... _us!_" Before Talwyn could retort tiredly, the feloid exclaimed, "Slab!"

"And Crunch," the other added less enthusiastically, knowing his older, more aggressive partner would pounce on the chance to impress what sounded like a very cute girl.

Talwyn shook her head, mouthing their names in silent sarcasm as their starspeeders formed up on either side of her ship. "Well, guys, thanks again, but I think I can handle it from here--"

"Oh, you gotta be kiddin me!" Slab blurted out. "Yer ship is all shot up, babe!"

"_Don't call me that_," she snapped back. "You can call me _Talwyn_."

"_Miss_ Talwyn," Cronk added decisively.

"Uhh... sorry ba - uh, _Talwyn_," Slab blurted out, catching himself, hoping to score some brownie points. "_Miss_ Talwyn."

"And don't you forget it!" Zephyr barked at him.

"Guys, ease up," she ordered with a thin smile. "Well... I guess the ship did take a few shots, _aaaand_... if you guys insist..."

"Say no more!" Slab interrupted. "Just ease 'er on in and we'll getcha all patched up."

"We _will?_" Crunch asked in an incredulous voice.

Talwyn couldn't restrain a laugh as Slab muttered threats under his breath, but she grew quiet as worry over Ratchet's fate nagged at the pit of her stomach.

The voice of the Port Captain came over the communicators just then. "I do hope you two hooligans haven't opened up a box of troubles here, but... that really was a brave thing ya did. Now, go ahead and come on in, you three."

Talwyn was glad of the interruption of her mood, smiling a bit. "Hey, I have a friend in a really high place who'll make sure the Cragmites don't want to come within a parsec of here." But that just served to remind her that the Phoenix II was in the thick of the battle she had run from, and it hadn't sounded like a walk in the park. 'Sasha... what the hell are you going through?'

* * *

"Cap'n, I _insist_ that my attack craft are gonna fly to defend our ship!"

"No they will _not!_" Sasha exclaimed just as stubbornly. "Major Havoc, you know how much I outrank you. If you want your men to defend _my_ ship, put them on gunnery duty! And don't you _dare_ disobey me, mister!"

Busby was amazed at this side of her Captain, having never seen it before, watching her take command of the battle with almost ruthless determination. At the same time, he could still perceive under the surface the soft, vulnerable woman who cared for her crew dearly, a woman who captivated him. And then as if to remind him that she was still the iron willed Cazar Commander, she cried to her crew as weapon fire sparked off the nose of the ship, "Not one Cragmite Cruiser gets within a hundred kay of the Phoenix!"

"Aye aye, sir!" he shouted with the others, adding under his breath, "Damn, if I wouldn't follow you to Hell and back along with everyone else. Besides... there's no way I could ever leave you, now..."

Sasha had driven the Phoenix II deep into the formation of Imperial Cruisers, and while they initially scattered, Busby knew there was no way they would surrender their space without a fight. And likewise, there was no way, outside of a secret weapon, that they stood a chance against a Solanan Navy vessel just shy of a dreadnought. Since they had lost the advantage of their missile carrier, the fight was essentially over, though they were determined to drag it out and make it as costly on her as possible.

She froze as a worried voice came over the speakers. "Uh, Cap'n, I could use a little help here."

"Scout? _Scout!_" she cried. "What's your situation!"

"About three minutes out with five Cruisers on my tail. _And a whole mess of missiles_," the probe replied anxiously.

Sasha exclaimed, "Peter, do whatever it takes to save him!"

"Uhh, Captain, we still have a few squads of Cruisers on us--" he began.

"_Do it!_" she cried, and he knew at that point matters were settled, directing turrets from general defense to focus on the ships and missiles homing in on their probe bot.

Busby's eyes widened as a sensor indication caught his eye and he shouted along with Raoul, "Hard starboard arc!"

The Helmsman knew better than to question such an outcry and pulled the nose of the ship hard to the upper right. The drastic maneuver pushed everyone into their seats from undampened G-forces. Sasha looked to her First sharply, beginning to inquire of him as a wide beam of energy just tagged the Phoenix on the chin, destroying several Imperial Cruisers which were caught in its path. Gasping for breath, she panted, "Oh my God... that nearly... where from, Busby?"

"Particle cannon battery on Visceron!" he replied excitedly. "I gave Peter the coordinates!"

"Return fire!" Sasha ordered. "And watch that damned planet like a hawk!"

"Aye ma'am," they responded as the Weapons Officer directed their own particle cannons to the location indicated by Busby's sensors, and as the planet scan was being coordinated by Scout's forward probe, the accuracy was pinpoint. Busby added as the lights dimmed briefly from the massive release of energy from the ship's cannons, "We should be able to take them all out before they rechar - oh crap,_ hard to port lower quad!_"

The crew held onto their chairs as the ship dropped below them, their stomachs lurching from the violent maneuver. Sasha threw her hands up as a second beam threatened to blast directly into the bridge, but the moments passed and she was still alive. "You were saying, Busby?" she gasped with a faint smile.

"Okay, okay, so they paid their electric bill early," he replied, though he was still too shaken to admire his typically corny wit. He had been tempted to sneak a look at Sasha as she presided over the battle and if he had, the bridge would have been obliterated, and the Phoenix as good as dead. He watched his display as the particle cannon fire scorched the enemy battery emplacements one by one.

"You need to watch your monitour moer closelee, you slaquer!" Raoul chided from the front of the bridge.

"Do I tell you how to do your job?" Busby grumbled, irritated at being caught red handed by the ship's computer.

"Usually!" the computer snapped back.

"Well, I'm _usually right_," he retorted.

"Can it, you two--" Sasha began, when she stopped short from the voice of Scout over the speakers.

"I don't suppose you guys could open a garage door for me!" he cried. "Twenty seconds!"

Sasha closed her eyes, cupping her face in her hands, struggling for just a moment of peace and clarity in the midst of the chaos. "Open bay two... just long enough to get him in."

"Ma'am? Bay two has half our attack ships in it," the Helmsman reminded her.

"I know, Dakkar, just do it," she ordered.

Busby gaped at his screens declaring, "He's still got a swarm of missiles on his tail! Crap, did they unload everything on 'im? They're practically bumping into each other! And still three Cruisers left!"

"I know, Busby..." she said quietly, her fists clenched as fire from the Cruisers began to strike the hull. "Peter, you have to eliminate those threats!"

"Uh... workin' on it, ma'am," he replied, knowing that he couldn't be heavy handed or he could destroy Scout along with the targets. Everyone watched as the seconds seemed to crawl by. The Cruisers were decimated, but the missiles numbered in the dozens and were directly behind the probe bot as he flew as fast as he dared towards the sanctuary of that open bay. Then warheads began detonating.

"Scout?" Sasha called anxiously. "_Scout!_"

There was no response, although Busby spoke up tentatively, and the tone in his voice made the Cazar's spirits plummet. "He... veered away from the ship... taking the missiles with him..."

There was an anguished strangled sound as Sasha choked back a scream, but she couldn't restrain it all. "Faqing _hell!_" she cried, pounding the armrest with her fist. "Secure that bay and wipe out the remaining enemies! _Every last one!_"

Busby snuck a very brief glance at the feloid, wincing at the pain and frustration apparent in every facet of her being. "I'm really sorry, Sasha," he whispered, "but I don't know what else you could have done."

He blinked in surprise as she growled, "What I could have done... _what I could have done?_ I could have saved him, that's what!" He looked to see her glaring at him, her teeth clenched and her eyes moist, though it was clear that she was placing the blame on herself. "End this battle, people! I've had enough of this crap!" She felt almost nauseous from the tension, and even worse as she recalled that there was the merest chance Talwyn could be in danger. '_Please_,' she prayed, 'for heaven's sake, be safe...'

* * *

Talwyn watched as the tall lanky pilot clad in black climbed out of his even blacker ship, coming over next to her as he removed his helmet. As she expected, he was a Leonida, and had a thick mop of black hair that he shook out from being crammed in his headgear. 'Just what I expected from some lug named Slab,' she remarked to herself, thinking it had to be him. But as she studied his face, she wondered if she wasn't seeing something more than just another racer punk. It occurred to her that he was rather handsome, and there was something about him that was almost tender...

Realizing that they'd been standing there, silently staring into each other's eyes all this time, she coughed uncomfortably. "Uhm... thanks, again. That was really something, taking on that Cruiser with those old heaps," she said, jerking her thumb at their starspeeders.

It seemed to take a moment for what she'd said to register, and the way he was staring at her threatened to make her blush. "Huh? Aw, cumon now--!"

"Hey, don't get so defensive... it's actually a complement," she chuckled, then fell into an awkward silence as he followed suit. "So... I take it you're Slab?"

He nodded, speechless, as his eyes settled in hers. "And you're... somethin' else, babe..." he breathed softly.

"_Don't call_ me that," she snapped, though she could feel her cheeks beginning to flush as Slab muttered an apology. Beside them, she was aware that his buddy Crunch was gazing at them with a sigh, then backed up as Zephyr clomped up to look him over. Growing uncomfortable, he poked at the warbot who poked him back. He returned it more strongly, and he learned that it wasn't a good idea to get into a poking match with Zephyr, as the next one had him falling over backwards with a yelp. "So... what do you do, besides hit on girls?"

That had him blinking and flustered for a moment, and she stifled a giggle at how cute he looked as he tried to regain his macho composure, though she seemed to blush a bit more herself. "Uhh... we race. We're good, too."

She frowned at him, having nailed them from the start. "Then you'd better maintain those buckets better. You push 'em too hard, and you won't be racing any more. You'll be..." Her voice faltered as the sorrow over Ratchet's fate caught in her throat, and for some reason, she hated the thought that these two youths might not make it back home one day. Looking aside, she muttered, "Well... you know..."

There was an odd tone in Slab's voice as he drawled out, "Yeah... that's what that dude Ratchet said--"

He stopped short as Talwyn looked up at him sharply. "Ratchet? _You saw Ratchet?_ When!"

He seemed to cave in on himself as he muttered, "Oh... so you're Ratchet's babe, huh..."

"Yes!" she exclaimed, then realized what that meant. "No! I mean... we're friends, okay? Just tell me!"

He didn't know whether to feel heartened by that or not. "Uhh... couple days ago. We kinda had a... yank. But we're cool now," he added quickly. He fell silent as she was visibly downcast, looking concerned himself. "Did... somethin' happen?"

She was crushed, hoping that the racers had run into him more recently. "Huh? Oh, no..." she muttered, "at least, I hope not..."

"Hey, uh... need some help?" Slab offered hopefully.

She looked into his eyes to see if he was wanting to take advantage of her, but there was no trace of anything but sympathy, as far as she could tell. And then she realized what that look in his eye was; Ratchet had made an impression on him, like he did on so many people who's lives he crossed. And... he might not be so bad after all. "Ya know," she began, "I might just--"

They both jumped as Slab's phone went off, and he answered it with a groan. "What! Uhh... sorry, just goin' through a rough... _what?_ Aww, come on... _now?!_ Well... I'm kinda in the middle of an emergence... whadya mean, I ran out of--? But..." Talwyn tried to smother a grin as a tirade erupted in the feloid's ear, and he looked increasingly despondent. "Okay _okay_... be right there. Shi - eeesh..." he muttered as he angrily shoved the phone deep into his pocket.

"Lemme guess," Talwyn smirked, "you have pizza runs to make."

He blinked at her in surprise. "How'd ya know?"

She gaped back. "Uh... I was just guessing--!"

"Listen," he interrupted, "You gonna be around a few? Or... like, a day, at least, maybe?"

"Uhh..." She scrambled for some kind of answer. "I don't know--"

"Hold on. Okay? Until I get back," he told her, then turned to his friend, who was having a much safer staring match with Cronk and Zephyr. "Crunch, dude! Hep me out!"

The other feloid shot him an irritated look, though he seemed resigned to his fate. "Hep me out, hep me out..." he chided. "You're payin', _right?_"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll cut ya in," Slab grumbled as he grabbed his helmet, stopping to gaze into Talwyn's eyes. "Don't go 'til I get back, kay?"

She took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair to settle herself. "I... I don't know... we'll see..."

He stood there, transfixed, as he clearly didn't want this to be the last time he saw her, and then before she could blink, the helmet banged to the deck and he grabbed her in a tight embrace, his lips pressed to hers. She was so shocked, she didn't know what to do, but she could feel her body melting, her heart beginning to race.

Beside them, three figures froze in astonishment. Crunch gaped at them in stunned disbelief, muttering, "_Holy lip lock..._" The other two's reactions were a little stronger, as Cronk toppled over with a moan, his head coming off, and Zephyr's jaw hit the ground, literally. Slab drew back, blurting out, "Wait for me, babe, Talwyn, _please?_"

She stood there blinking unsteadily, her mind tumbling in a storm of mixed emotions, her whole body flushed, but when she regained a measure of composure, she drew back her fist, crying, "Why _you--!_" She took a swing at the shadow of a head beneath a mop of black hair but missed completely, spinning to the starport deck.

"Sorry," he called to her as he jumped into his ship, a different tone in his voice. "But you can try that again next time."

Zephyr was trying to fit his lower jaw into place when he heard the two starspeeders' engines roar to life. He began to trot off towards them, sounding a bit like a pelican as he tried to give voice to his indignation, but he fell face first to the deck as Cronk grabbed him by the ankle - his body, anyway. His head chinned itself forward, saying, "Hold on, ol' buddy. You ain't leavin' me outta this one." Unfortunately, they were unable to do more than watch as the ships lifted into the air, rotating to roar off to their job.

'That kiss... Ratchet was supposed to be the first guy to kiss me! Still... it was kind of... sweet...' The gust of exhaust roused Talwyn, who had been sitting there holding her head, brushing a finger across her lips, and she remembered that she was supposed to be outraged. She bolted for her ship, and as she had no idea how to call them, she beamed a message to the fleeing spacecraft. Crunch came on the display, waving frantically and begging for mercy. "No, the _lead_ ship, damn it!" she growled, and found Slab gazing at the screen in surprise.

"Hey! Whadya know, it works!" he began. "So, ya just can't wait for--"

"Shut up!" she snapped. "You... you... _you_... apologize!"

"For what, makin' you blush?" he asked with a grin. "Ya know, you're really cute when you get shook up."

"I'm... _not_ shook up!" she exclaimed, fighting a blush and losing.

"Yeah you are."

"No I'm _not!_ Now you come back here so I can give you one of--!" she growled, shaking a fist at the screen.

"So what's your number?" he cut in quickly.

"NU6723AT0009!" she blurted out. "And you'd better have one _hell_ of an apology ready!"

"Hey, you can count on it. I'm gonna melt you like chocolate!" Giving her a wink, he cut the message before she could unleash a response.

Being unable to vent at the racer, she screamed and pounded her fists on the console, then sat back in a fluster, failing to notice Zephyr carrying Cronk's head as they came up the ship's ramp behind her. She felt mixed up; angry, insulted, confused... and warm. She couldn't keep from dwelling on that moment when the racer held her tightly, his feloid scent enveloping her with his arms, the soft fur of his face along with his surprisingly softer lips, and the way she grew limp against that tall, strong, masculine form. It was so vivid, she could still feel it, and the touch of his lips lingering on hers. "What am I doing?" she muttered angrily at herself. "I love Ratchet..." She faltered as she wondered sadly, "But... what if he isn't there anymore?"

"I hope you gave that yahoo what for!"

She jumped as Cronk's words startled her like a bump to the head. "Oh, uhh... yeah," she muttered, "I gave him both barrels..." But she caught her breath as his parting words echoed in her mind: _I'm gonna melt you like chocolate._

In the midst of this confused reverie, the voice of the Port Boss came from the rear hatch, and she wondered if she should just leave to see about the fate of the Phoenix, and Ratchet, or... if she should wait for _him_. "Coming!" she called back, wishing instead that she could be alone with her thoughts a while longer. "Come on, you two," she said to her bewildered robot companions, completely missing their dilapidated condition.

* * *

"Enemy vessels destroyed: one hundred percent. Enemy missiles intercepted... ninety nine point six percent." He noticed her ears drooping, and dreaded continuing with the report, as he knew she would take it personally. "Uhm... enemy attack success... three point nine percent..."

Sasha stared forward, not seeing much of anything in front of her, nor hearing the cold, clinical, heartless postmortem of the battle Busby was reciting. When the conflict was raging, it was almost a relief to get caught up in the passions of warfare. But now, she couldn't hide from the despair that threatened to drown her in its depths again. Death... more death. More death she would have to deal with, and these, her responsibility. It didn't matter to her that they were robots. They were people, they had believed in her, that she would get them through the battle alive. At least, that's how she always saw it. But now, after Ratchet's demise, it was so much worse.

He was watching her, she knew, gazing at her in desolate sympathy as he ran through the battle statistics. She could smell the emotions swirling through him like a mixture of incense that clashed, but one in particular. She wanted to run away, but she sat there quietly until the First Officer's report had a clear period to it. She rose promptly as he stopped, murmuring, "Thank you, Busby." She keyed the ship's intercom, wondering what she was going to say as the musical tones announcing her finished ringing, and hoped her voice sounded strong. The first few words were uncomfortably soft. "This is your Captain. As you know, we have just successfully engaged the enemy at planet Visceron and dispatched them completely. Which... also means I have committed an act of war against the Cragmite Empire. I don't know what their response is going to be, but there's no doubt I have opened a Pandora's Box I shouldn't have. The Resistance Confederation is undoubtedly going to pay a price for my actions, and I will direct the Phoenix to assist these forces as best I can.

"As for now, our mission here isn't over, so stay on your toes. I'm keeping the Phoenix on red alert in case the Cragmites retaliate. I will have to say that you have done yourselves proud, which is what I've expected of the crew of the Phoenix. It has suffered..." She drew a breath, forcing herself to continue. "Blood in combat, but your performance has been outstanding. I don't know if this battle will ever be recognized officially for a commendation, but you have mine. Continue to make me proud of you, though, I'm sure you will. Thank you. That is all." She cut the intercom, saying to the bridge crew, "Good job, guys. And listen... don't take anything I've said to you in the heat of combat personally. It's... just the way I am. Carry on." She sat down, feeling lost and out of place, casting her gaze to Number One. He was looking at her, and their eyes locked for... how long, she didn't know. But then he snapped his head back to his console, causing her to wilt in sorrow. 'Damnation,' she thought sourly, 'I've really made a mess of this. How can I get things back to normal between us... or can I?'

"Captain," he reported to her, "the probe is sending back detailed data of the prison area." He nearly mentioned Scout by name, just managing to catch himself.

His refusal to say her name just made her feel worse, and it was hard to respond. "Thank you, Busby. Tell me when you learn something." Ratchet was gone, relations between herself and her First were strained, the Phoenix was damaged, casualties suffered, she instigated a war... what else could go wrong?

"What the _hell?_"

She looked up sharply at Busby's outcry, her stomach knotting hard. "What? _What is it!_" But then she saw that he was smiling... could it be...?

He caught sight of her expression and knew he'd better say something quick before she got the wrong idea. "I just noticed that the signal from the probe is still being relayed." When she looked confused, he explained, "Scout is _still active_, Captain."

It wasn't what she hoped to hear, but she still jumped to her feet, gripping the railing around the dais as she quivered with excitement. "Scout..." she whispered, then more loudly, she declared, "Dakkar... intercept him and bring him in!" To the Communications Officer, she said, "Lola, hail that robot."

She tried to raise him a few times, but shook her head. "Sorry ma'am, he isn't responding."

Sasha curled her hand to her chest, but with a sigh of relief. "At least we know he's still alive." She noticed that the First Officer was engrossed in the transmission from Scout's forward probe. She came to his side, asking, "Busby, what do you have so far?"

It took a moment for him to respond as he was still mulling over what he was seeing, and he had to quell a reaction to her presence, giving a self-conscious cough. "Uhm... well, I'm playing detective here, so keep in mind, this is just my opinion. But look."

She gazed at the screen as detailed real time activity was being relayed by the probe. "I see... a lot of collateral damage. And what's that?" She touched a large metallic shape leaning against a tower of stone a ways off from the prison complex itself, and a data box popped up. "A... Blarg mech?"

"Yeah," Busby replied. "It looks like it might have been there independent of the Cragmite forces. The monorail looks like it was smashed with a hammer, not blasted or anything. In fact, it looks like there's some other damage it caused. Like, Ratchet wouldn't have attacked the prisoners, right?"

She swallowed down some painful sorrow at the association of Ratchet with wanton destruction. "No... there was no way Ratchet would ever cause deliberate harm to those not fighting him. He would... rather suffer himself instead." She needed a distraction and found one, pointing back to the mech. "What are these prison workers doing?"

"Besides making rude gestures at us, they're recovering a casualty." When the Cazar looked ready to cry, he added quickly, "It's okay, Sasha, it's a prisoner. In fact, it's... _Ace Hardlight?_ Wow... did he ever fall hard when DreadZone got canceled."

"Ratchet did the canceling, in fact." She gave a faint, rueful smile at that, thinking that at least Busby had said her name, finally. "So..." she murmured sadly, "where is... his body? I'm not leaving until it's recovered."

"Well, that's just it," Busby replied. "There isn't one." Her eyes closed in a moment of anguish, and he knew he would have to get to the point. "Sasha, hold on, I have some things to show you. Look at this." He zoomed in on the workers hauling Ace's massive body into a rescue craft. "He was in a containment unit which was wedged against the mech to keep it from sinking."

She wasn't all that interested in random bits of information, giving him an uncaring shrug. "So, they pulled it up to get him out of the water...?"

"I don't think so. Look there." He pointed to two glowing spots in the water. "Laser flares, and these are like the ones we use in the Alliance."

Sasha's heart lurched as she realized what Busby was driving at, but decided it had to be something else. Besides, she was too much of a realist to accept a miracle from such circumstantial evidence. "So... he saved Ace Hardlight before they got him, or... you think he was captured _alive?_ Or at least... that his body is in the prison?"

"I don't think so," he replied, driving her to exasperation. "See, you said he has a Lombax starfighter. But there's no wreckage, and she wouldn't leave him, no matter what. They just don't do that."

She was staring at him, dumbfounded, not wanting to give in to the lure of teasing little hints. Her emotions were at the breaking point as she rasped out, "Busby, _please_... just spill it..."

At last, he told her directly to mercifully drive the point home, "Sasha, I think he's alive, and got away."

Her breath grew short as she gasped, "Busby... are you sure...?" but she didn't wait for an answer. She began panting, her heart pounding in her chest as she ran around the circular walkway to the dais where her seat was poised. She didn't bother to sit, grabbing her console keyboard and typing a call to Ratchet, though she forgot that the Communications Officer would have to patch her through. "Lola!" she practically screamed. "Give me access to Comm-Net!" The flustered Lieutenant complied, and when the screen came up, it looked like the starfighter's hatch was open, and what looked like a hangar was overhead. Now she really did scream. "Ratchet?! _Ratchet! Where are you--!_" She fell silent as she saw the Mute indicator in the lower left corner, grabbing the keyboard and typing furiously, her hands shaking.

_ratchet please for gods sake answer me_

She began typing again when a reply came up. _Captain Phyronyx, Ratchet is well, and is resting quietly. Please calm down, and don't worry. This is..._

She couldn't see any more of the reply as she choked out a sob, tears flooding her eyes as her legs buckled under her, and it grew very dark...

* * *

Now the Council was really upset, tempers flaring, tentacles flailing, and the poor Blarg translator had one heck of a time keeping track of who was yelling first. But the consensus was, "War! War!! _War!!_"

Tachyon saw that he was fighting a losing battle with his Council, finally exclaiming, "_All right already!_" As the Cragmite leaders settled down to listen, he said to them through the translator, "Fine... you're right, and failing to act after this incursion by the Solanan warship would cause a lot of questions. We might even suffer an attack as a result, seeming weak. But I want nothing too heavy handed! We need resources, so don't go blowing up everything in sight!"

"But blowing up everything in sight is what we do!" objected General Borlog. "Besides, it's _fun!_"

Tachyon grabbed him by the neck with his scepter, pulling him face to face. "Not _now!_ Not while my plans are coming to fruition! _Am I understood?_" The Cragmite snarled, meeting the Emperor's gaze angrily, but finally backed down. Tachyon released him, shouting to the others, "Listen, you overgrown slugs! With only... oh, for pity's sake--!" He banged a Cragmite commander on the head, exclaiming, "_Don't_ eat the translator, just because _I_ called you a slug! Now, where was I...?" As the poor Blarg crawled behind Tachyon, he continued, "Oh yes. With only Drophyd Troopers, I have managed to restore the Cragmite Empire to one quarter of its original glory! But if you can be _just a little faqing patient_, Operation Banana Peel will have the entire expanse of the Alliance flat on its back! No one will be able to oppose us! Now... isn't the combined wealth of forty galaxies worth waiting for?!"

The slug-like beings turned to eye each other in amazement, the translator edging forward hesitantly to render any speech intelligible to the Emperor. Admiral Plurdge grumbled, "We'll trust you, for now, but we can't eat promises. Now, where can we attack that won't have you yelling about it!"

"There!" The tip of his scepter snapped into a clump of stars on a holographic Polaris galaxy map. "The Mundus Cluster. It's a mediocre group of worlds bordering Cragmite Space, and of no strategic interest to the Confederation. They won't lift a finger, so you can invade with impunity. Specifically, attack planet Odum and sweep out from there. After all, that is where a Cruiser was lost."

One of the Cragmites wrung his tentacles with glee. "I love to break non-aggression pacts!"

* * *

Author's notes

**Hail Mary:** this is an ancient term of religious origin, which became commonly used to describe a last ditch sports play to score a winning goal. The Hail Mary Busby worked out was in case the Phoenix II was discovered, or other situation which required drastic action, such as a civilian vessel inadvertently arriving in the combat zone. It involved a massive launch of missiles to thin out the opposing Cragmite forces.

**Leftenant:** rather than a typo, this is the common designation for the officer rank formerly known as Junior Lieutenant. When numerous officers named "Junior" took offense at being labeled as Lieutenants regardless of their ranks, a designation used by some of the outlying navies was adopted, and peace with the "Junior" ranks was restored. Those of you into trivia might note that Leftenant Pulverizer has a distant relative made famous in the Earth movies Mister Roberts and Ensign Pulver.

**Ship orientation:** to understand how the Navies of the universe direct their ships, they've used an ancient set of sailing terms. Bow refers to the nose of the ship, Stern the rear. Port is to the left, Starboard to the right. Since they operate in 3D space, they include up and down inclinations. So when Busby called out, "Hard to port lower quad!" this meant for the Helmsman to perform an evasive maneuver strongly to the lower left, wherever free space was available.

**Weapons systems:** along with particle cannons and energy weapons, modern naval warships have an arsenal of high speed guided missiles. When Sasha referred to a "big salvo," that was Naval-ese for nuclear missiles. "Small yields" are conventional, non-nuclear warheads.

Further notes: a scene I was in the process of writing ended up not fitting properly as I read back over the previous chapter. I ended up editing it into that chapter, 24, just before the last scene with Talwyn. So there's a little bonus reading.

Also, due to a death in the family before Christmas, this chapter was unfortunately delayed. The chapter, and fic, are in dedication to my beloved Uncle.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26: Their tails between their legs**

(note, because this chapter is so freaking HUGE, search for the tag *NEW MATERIAL* for the start of latest updates, there are _two_ now)

Warmth... she was enveloped by it, and a familiar spicy fragrance that made her purr. He was holding her, she realized, and snuggled up to his chest to be as close against him as she could. Questions of why and how melted away in a fog of contentment. She didn't want to deal with any of that world beyond this blissful vacance, for she knew it would only bring pain and regret. _Just for now... for this moment... let me have a few minutes of happiness and quiet. I've suffered so much..._

But as the seconds wore on, she awoke a bit more, and the nagging worries of her life refused to let her be. _What happened... why am I in Busby's arms? Is something wrong?_ Vague memories of trouble had her eyes flickering open, and she found herself gazing into the face of her First Officer as he watched her fretfully. His lips were moving, but his voice sounded a million cubits off. She wanted to know what he was saying, as among all the people close to her right now, she trusted him completely. Reaching up to stroke his face, she whispered, "Oh, Busby... you... thank heavens it's you... you wonderful-"

His body flashed with an uncomfortable warmth, the sour musk of embarrassment welling up from him... why? What was wrong with being with him like this? And then she realized he had spoken loudly over her. "Yes, _Captain_, I have you here _on the bridge_."

Her mind was slow to recover completely, but then it all came back to her at once, so forcefully that she jerked in reaction. 'Oh my God... _and everyone's watching!_' She said as loudly as she could, "Uhm... yes, put me down, please." Her heart was pounding as the First Officer eased her down to stand on unsteady legs, and as he began to ask again about her condition, she waved him off, accidentally jabbing him in the chest with a nail. "Sorry," she muttered as she gripped the railing beside her chair to steady herself. "Just... give me a moment."

It was a struggle to sort through the countless memories vying for her attention, and as badly as she wanted to see about the one she needed desperately to be true, she knew she had to take things in proper order, saying a bit hoarsely as she stared at the floor below, "Ship's status."

"The Phoenix II is secure, and repairs from the battle over Visceron are well underway," Busby replied curtly. "We're still in orbit over the planet, but we need to see about getting the heck out of here, before an even bigger Cragmite battle group shows up."

"How much time?" she asked.

He gave her a shrug. "Hard to say, but it may be as little as twenty minutes. We really need to-"

"Scout," she interrupted as another unpleasant memory came to her. "How is he?"

"We're reeling him in right now, and he looks pretty beat up," he informed her. "He isn't responding, but I don't think anything's critically wrong with him."

"Act like it. Treat him like any other medical emergency," she ordered. When he spoke his compliance, she touched on another issue dear to her. "Talwyn... what's her status?"

He blinked in shock. "Oh, crap, I totally forgot about-"

"_Busby..!_" she growled, her voice rising angrily. "Lola, raise the Odyssey Beta if she's in normal space." She cast her gaze to the main screen where the cockpit of the starfighter was still on the display. 'And then, Ratchet,' she thought to herself, 'if you don't talk to me, I'll fly there and wake you up myself, and you won't have any choice in the matter.'

* * *

"And there," the Port Boss pointed to a scorched place in the tail, "the starboard engine nearly took a direct hit, and that might'a sealed yer fate."

Talwyn listened distractedly as the officer ran through the laundry list of damage the ship had suffered in the ordeal to make it here. None of it was enough to keep her from flying, exactly, though it would have to be tended to soon or it would, but her mind was off in three other places just then. She wondered sadly about Ratchet's fate. She worried about Sasha and the Phoenix, and how they were fairing. And she was nagged by thoughts of a brash, reckless, handsome young racer punk who dared to kiss her so forwardly, and then run off on her before she could respond. "I wonder if... I should..." she murmured to herself.

"I could waive the safety issues, for a small fee."

She looked up, realizing what had just transpired in their conversations. He was inviting a bribe in exchange for an early exit from the port, and it had some appeal. "I might," she offered. "What can I get out of her?"

"Oh, jump itself shouldn't be a problem, but I wouldn't run those engines past an _ay you_," the robot advised her. "Might be bad."

An Astronomical Unit... three hundred billion cubits. But if she could hitch a ride on the Phoenix, that wouldn't be an issue. "Okay-" she began, but was cut off by a beeping from inside her ship. Her heart jumped; someone was calling.

"Take me in there, Zephyr," Cronk told his friend, as they hadn't had time for repair yet. "If it's that kissy-faced yahoo, I'll give him a piece of my-"

"Oh no ya don't," Talwyn snapped as she rushed up the ramp past them, sending them spinning to the deck below. She tried not to look excited or flushed as she answered in case it was _him_, but it was hard to calm herself. "Hello? This is..." Her voice fell silent as she saw the Cazar's face appear on the screen, and she fought to keep disappointment from showing. "Ha-hey, Sasha! How are you doing?" she asked, running her fingers through her hair absently. "Does this mean the fight's over?"

"Yes it is," she replied in obvious relief. "But... you look flushed. Is anything wrong on your end?"

"Oh, uh..." she began in a fluster, shaking her head in hopes of calming down. "Not really, it was just... an adventure making it here. I'll tell you about it later. But, listen... it was a little rough. I was wondering if... you were coming here anyway, that maybe I could hitch a ride?"

Sasha chuckled, "That's just what I was calling about-" She stopped short as what Talwyn said finally hit home, looking at her in concern. "Wait... does this mean you were chased there by that Cragmite Cruiser?"

"Yeah..." she replied a bit vacantly at first. "But... a couple of friends took care of it."

From off screen, a man said, "Wow, those must be _some_ friends. Odum doesn't have much more than a couple of rescue squadrons."

Talwyn chuckled, gazing in the direction Slab and Crunch flew off to make their pizza deliveries. "You... have no idea. Anyway, when are you going to arrive here?"

Sasha looked back into the screen. "I've been told it shouldn't take more than forty-five minutes."

Talwyn blinked in amazement. "Forty-fi... it took me a couple hours!"

Sasha gave her a lopsided smile. "Well, the Navy knows a few tricks. Get ready, and we'll rendezvous then. And... have that talk. Sasha out."

Talwyn stared at the screen in relief as it went dark, for more than one reason, though she stopped herself as she began to open up a message. She would seem eager if she called just then, and she hated seeming eager to anyone, besides Ratchet. Still... he was the first male besides the Lombax to spark any response in her at all, and who knew when they would be free to come back this way? And he wanted to see her again so badly... didn't she owe him something? Her fingers poised over the console time and again, and finally she grumbled at herself, "Oh, for crying out loud... compromise!" She did so, opening up the texter and typing a short message:

_Leaving soon. Really sorry. ~ Tal_

She wanted to say more, as much as she chastised herself for it, but it was hard to keep from dwelling on that rare, warm moment with him. As she began to drift off into a reverie, the sound of a throat clearing from the ship's ramp brought her abruptly back to the ground. "Err... Miss Apogee, if you'll just wrap up business, you'll be free to do as you please."

"Right! Right," she blurted out, intending to make the fastest transaction this side of an inside stock trade, so she could return to her seat and wait for him to reply. And if he was any kind of a man, he'd hurry back there so she could take that swing at him. And then, if he was any kind of a man, he'd understand, and respond... appropriately.

* * *

As Sasha clasped her hands to her face, smiling with relief, as well as a bit of mischief, Busby edged to her side, taking a moment to admire her beauty one more time before he opened his mouth and spoiled the mood. "You, uh... didn't mention anything to her about Ratchet."

Her smile widened a bit as she murmured, "No, I didn't... but it will make for a nice surprise when we meet." She gazed up at the screen which still held the cockpit view of Ratchet's ship, and the hangar roof above it. "Lola," she said quietly to her Communications Officer, "trace that signal."

"Already on it, ma'am," she replied, trying not to look smug. Like the rest of the Bridge crew, she was catching on fast.

As Sasha looked to the screen, she read the message typed out to her:

_Captain Phyronyx, Ratchet is well, and is resting quietly. Please calm down, and don't worry. This is Aphelion, Ratchet's ship. I will have him contact you as soon as he awakens. He has gone through quite an ordeal, and hope you understand._

She picked up her keyboard and typed in response, doing her best to contain herself, _Thank you, very much._

The reply came back promptly, _You are most welcome._

She knew she had to get moving, but a thousand issues were burning in her mind, besides the obvious one of who Ratchet favored among the three of them. _May I ask you a question?_

_Certainly, and I shall reply to the best of my ability_, came the response.

She had to take a few breaths to calm herself before she formed her inquiry. _What happened on Visceron?_

There was the slightest pause, as if the ship was collecting herself as well. _That is a tricky subject, and some things I doubt I am at liberty to say. But essentially, we invaded Zordoom Prison in order to secure the freedom of someone who could assist Ratchet in his quest to locate and free his friend, Clank, who had been botnapped under unusual circumstances a month ago. Things went fairly well until a Blarg named Drek arrived in a beast of a warmech. It was a difficult battle, but Ratchet was able to defeat him. However, being the bighearted nitwit that he is, he insisted on going to the wreck afterwards to assist Drek, and the monster tried to kill Ratchet, very nearly succeeding._

Busby looked to Sasha who stiffened in a sharp gasp of alarm, cupping her face in her hands. "Oh, my God... just like I dreamed it..."

He leaned close in surprise, murmuring, "Sasha, you never told me-"

She waved him silent as Aphelion continued, not wanting to be distracted, even if this was in text. _Miraculously, Ratchet survived, though Drek did not. We are currently at a location I cannot disclose while Ratchet recovers from his ordeal, and I receive some much needed maintenance._

Sasha placed her hand to her bosom, trying to reign in emotions that had her gasping for breath. "Oh, God... that stupid, _stupid_..." She picked up the keyboard again, typing frantically, _is ratchet injured?_

After a slight pause, the reply came back, _Not seriously. Do not worry._

"Don't worry, she says," Sasha muttered sourly, beginning to type again. _I'll try. It's not easy, especially after what I just learned. I care for him a great deal._

_I understand, believe me._

Sasha muttered, "I just hope they understand enough to let us accompany them." She continued typing, _May I ask you another question?_

_I will answer, if I am able._

She wondered for a moment whether to let on how much she knew about the Zoni, finally typing, _Does Ratchet have any idea how to find his way to Clank?_

_At the moment, we are still gathering information on that._

Sasha was incredulous. "Is she serious... they're _still_ in the dark?"

"Well..." Busby began, "just think of what they're trying to accomplish. Exploration of other dimensions is pure theory right now. We're still learning stuff about the wormholes and black holes, and so far, all we can do is use them for is speed runs across this universe."

"Yes, but Busby... he's just getting started... and it's already killing him!" She had to fight back a moan as she clenched her fists, remembering that dreadful line once more, 'Death hates to be cheated, and I'm sure he has a grudge against you already.' "Oh... why do I have to be so prescient sometimes?" she muttered as she began typing. _So, what is he going to do? What is his next move?_

The reply was rather surprising. _If I did know that, I still couldn't tell you. I am sure he will figure something out. He has a knack for that sort of thing._

She gave a wry smile at that, muttering, "Good grief... he even puts his very own ship through that torment." She felt a twinge of sympathy towards the starfighter as she typed, _So you're as much in the dark as we are? At least we're not suffering alone with that._

Her response was quite humorous. _Believe me, I've let him know how much I'm enjoying these little "surprise trips." ;-)_

She had to laugh, wiping back a tear as she settled down to leave a parting message. _We're going to be in hyper transit for a while, but please, have Ratchet message me as soon as he possibly can._

_I will, I promise you that._

She typed with a heavy sigh at not getting to speak with Ratchet directly, _Thank you. It means a lot to me. It was a pleasure "speaking" with you._

_The feeling is mutual, Captain Phyronyx._

"She seems very much like another unfortunate girl Ratchet is leading on a wild goose chase," she remarked. _Call me Sasha_, she typed with a thin smile.

_Very well, Sasha. Be safe._

_And you, and Ratchet as well._ She placed her keyboard aside with a little sigh of regret as the screen went dark.

"Maybe she is," Busby remarked. Sasha had lost track of what he was referring to, giving him a blank look. He added somberly, "Someone being led on..."

"I see..." She wilted as he looked aside, stinging inside as she understood his innuendo. She had a lot of things to get moving, saying to the Helmsman, "Dakkar, plot a course to Odum, and get us to the jump point pronto."

"Already plotted, ma'am," the Helmsman replied as a deep rumble signaled the ship's engines coming to life. It was gratifying to see her crew anticipating her orders.

"Well, we've been through it," Sasha said to Busby with a lopsided smile, hoping to keep him nearby. "And we haven't sprung a leak."

"Yeah, but we might have to stop at a gas station yet, if this keeps up," he replied with a smirk, recalling his earlier joke. He added quietly, "So... what will you do now?"

She glanced at the screen, seeing that in short order, the Phoenix would make the jump point. "Something I've been meaning to all day," she answered, motioning for him as she headed for the exit. "Follow me."

He stiffened like a corpse as he nodded, muttering as the doors opened for them, "Captain's leaving the bridge... nice knowing you all." A multitude of fears swam through his mind as he paced behind her, wishing that he could enjoy the sight of her tail swinging back and forth, her hips swaying in time with her movements, but all he could think of was the image of a convict being led to the gallows. It was the dreaded time he would be thrown aside like old clothes. 'It's not fair that women have this much power over us!' he complained inwardly, wishing that there were witnesses of his last moments of life, but prior to jump, the halls cleared as the crew secured themselves and the ship.

He swallowed as she led him down the corridors to an alcove lounge, cringing as she said distinctly, "Private." In response, a door closed across the entrance, turning opaque and sealing them inside. She cringed as she turned to him, as his body gave off every indication of a man facing doom. 'Oh, wonderful...' she thought, clasping her hands together. 'He's like a frightened child now... what do I say to him in this condition?'

'Well... this is it, the moment all men fear, as the woman they trusted with their soul grind them under their heel like a burned out cigarette,' he thought to himself bitterly. As she began to speak, he blurted out, "Could I at least have a blindfold?"

She blinked at him in bewilderment. "_What?_"

"I mean," he spat out, scrambling for something more appropriate, "I'll resign!"

"Busby!" she exclaimed, gaping at him irritably. "Why do you men have to be such drama queens?"

He replied more than a bit defensively, "Because you _women_ have to make a big production out of ending a man's life as he knows it!"

That caught her as abruptly as a slap to the face, and Busby cringed before the outburst that was sure to come. As he expected, when she found her voice again, it was loud. "_At ease, mister!_" she cried, beginning to pace as he clasped his hands behind him and stared directly forward. "_Why_ do you have to make things so difficult? I'm trying to salvage something very important to me."

Now he was confused, and he looked down at her, asking tentatively, "What?"

He jumped as she exclaimed, "You!" She wrung her hands, adding more quietly, "Us... ohh, I had a speech half thought out, and now it's gone to pieces... why is this so hard?"

"Because..." he offered, "it's not easy to let a guy down gently?"

"Busby, _shut up!_" she snapped at him, and he resumed staring forward. She gazed at the ceiling as if for guidance, and wondered what mother did when her father was being a pain. "Listen... and don't say _a word_ until I'm finished speaking. Please. You're making this harder than it needs to be, and things have been difficult enough around here."

"I'm sorry, Captain," he murmured regretfully, again all stiff and proper.

"_Sasha_," she told him insistently. "I have a name, and I like my friends to call me that. It was such a breath of fresh air when you did."

"Okay... Sasha..." he said tentatively, beginning to loosen up once more. "So... what do you want?"

Like a small child, he forgot the order told him not ten seconds ago, but it didn't matter to her just then. In fact, it was one of those things she found so endearing about him. "I want..." She fell silent as she looked into his eyes, at the wistful gaze in them, knowing what he was feeling. It was in his scent, in every facet of his being, and it made it difficult to continue. She wanted to take a different tact anyway. "Busby... when you first saw me, what did you think?"

"That you were the damn sexiest-" He caught himself, though the truly humiliating part had already slipped out. Fighting back an awkward smile, he bluffed out, "Uhm... _amazing_ Captain I ever saw. You know... like any First Officer would. A guy, anyway..."

She couldn't hold back an embarrassed laugh, her whole body flushing warm, shaking her head inwardly at the thought that he was like this from the start, but in a way it was gratifying. Pointing, she said to him, "That... I want that. I want the old Busby back. The man who is frank, even blunt, and even if it's the wrong thing to say. To lighten up. To... tell those crazy, terrible jokes and say those puns at the worst possible times." He grinned sheepishly, looking down, causing her to smile along with him. "And that: I want you to smile. I want you to be... _you_, all right? For things to be like they were when I first saw you... normal, somehow. And... I know, that's not going to be easy, with all that's happened between us..." Her voice drifted to an uneasy silence.

"You're darn right, it's not," he murmured, though he regretted saying it as he saw a look of torment on her face.

"I know..." she whispered, curling her fingers, wondering how she was going to wrap this up in a dignified, satisfying way that wouldn't cause much pain. "Busby... I suffered through a very bleak darkness for a time, and... I know that things became very complicated between us because of it. But... those moments, when you comforted me... I'm going to treasure them for the rest of my life." He looked down with mixed emotions, and she realized that her words sounded like a stale brush-off line. She stroked her fingers lightly along his arm, murmuring, "And... you, Busby... you too."

He looked back into her eyes, knowing that she would never lead him on, but he needed to see it for himself in her, and found it in a little glimmer. His voice was quiet as he said to her, "Uhm... thanks for that. It means a lot to me... like you do. I just... wish it could have been different, somehow..."

Even more unfolded in her expression at his words of regret, like a flower blossoming with a bittersweet fragrance. "I know, Busby... I know... but, we're Navy officers, and the Navy won't allow... certain things. On top of that... well, you know how I feel about Ratchet. But... that doesn't mean that we can't still share something... truly special."

He almost failed to notice the tone indicating the ship was about to jump, and then, to his surprise, as that little thrill of the ship's hyperdrive engaging ran through him, he caught a surprising sight. She noticed his expression, asking, "What?"

"Oh..." he began slowly, "when we jumped... in your eyes, I saw this pretty green glow."

"Really?" she asked, beginning to smile. "I saw the same thing in yours."

"Oh yeah?" He looked aside, grinning. "That's... neat. It doesn't happen with too many people, and they aren't sure why. I always thought it was because..." His gaze returned to hers as he finished, "They were kinda... special."

Sasha murmured quietly after a moment, "Busby... don't ever think you aren't..."

That was at once the most wonderful and most heart rending thing he had ever heard. 'If only I was special enough,' he lamented to himself. She looked to be growing emotional, as if his thoughts were apparent to her, making him cough self-consciously. "Listen... and you be quiet yourself for a minute," he interrupted as she began to speak. "Captain... _Sasha_, so I can finish a thought."

"Okay, _Busby_," she murmured with a demure smile, enjoying the sight of his discomfort at being so blunt with her, and glad for any emotional change of pace.

He began quietly at first, "Anyway... I know what you mean. This is really awkward, and I don't want it to be either. I wanna be able to see a lot more of you." Both their eyes popped open at his wording, and he began clumsily, "_I mean_-"

"Busby..." she giggled, looking down with a flush, "Just... never mind. I know what you mean, and I feel the same." Looking back into his eyes, she added softly, "You're much too fine a First Officer... and much too wonderful a friend to... let this all fall to pieces."

He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out as they stared at each other, his mind a blank, save for very vivid memories and spicy romantic notions. He didn't want the moment to end anyway, to let that last nail in the coffin seal the demise of such a precious if impossible dream, but he knew it had to. Finding his voice at last, he muttered, "Yeah, uhm... anyway, I'm... glad we had this talk. I'll see if I can make it work, the way it was, because... well, it was really cool, and... you're only the best Captain in the whole fleet." She looked down, murmuring her thanks, though it only served to drive a stake through his heart. He had to end this now before he said or did something he might enjoy for a moment, but regret for the rest of their lives. "Listen... I guess... I should head on back to the bridge. And... ya know, you could go lie down for a while 'til we arrive, if you want to. Nothing ever happens during jump, and I know you need to relax." He extended his hand to her as she hesitated, speechless, unsure of what else to do. "Chums, then?"

She stared at Busby's hand for a time, feeling lost, as if she'd just severed those ties with him she wanted so much to hold onto. She knew what he wanted, and perhaps in a sense what she did, but this was for the best, wasn't it? Still, as she forced her hand up to take his, made herself smile thinly, it didn't seem that way, not at all, but what choice was there? Her voice was quiet as she said to him, "Chums. Let's... get back to where we were, before all this craziness made such a mess of everything. It was really good... having you under me." When he gaped at her in shock, she realized what she'd said, her body flushing in embarrassment as she wiped a palm across her cheek. "Uhm... bad choice of words. I'm afraid I'm picking up your bad habits... sorry."

"If only," he whispered, clamping his teeth down on his tongue when she saw her glance up at him. "I mean... listen, you have a good rest and I'll..." Before he knew it, he was stroking his fingers along her arm, savoring the soft warmth of her fur beneath the fabric, and wishing he could feel that instead, the stupidest thing he could do. "Open," he blurted out a bit loudly as he jerked his hand back, the door to the alcove sliding away so he could escape. "I'd... better get up there, before they throw a party or something. See ya."

She watched hollowly as he marched briskly away. There was no good way to do this, she realized, and though there were no tears or raised voices, it felt as close to a disaster as could be. He was unhappy, and she was miserable, sitting on a sofa and hugging herself as she watched her First making his way down the corridor with his head lowered. More than anything, she wanted him back, wanted his arms around her, strong, supportive, caring... loving, even as she wanted as desperately to be with Ratchet. She couldn't imagine a worse predicament. "If only I could be two people," she whispered.

Her own scent was driving her crazy, she came to realize, as the pheromones from the battle and this dreadful moment were thick in her uniform. "I have to take a shower," she sighed, fleeing the alcove and hitting the ventilator, so hopefully no one else would catch their lingering, embarrassing riot of fragrances.

* * *

She was growing tired. It had been a long, grueling day, even without the combat, and she found it hard to keep her eyes open. 'Why won't you reply? You act like I'm the most important woman in the world one minute, and the next... nothing. And I really have to get moving before the Cragmites return to see what happened to their comrades, and they won't be happy about it.'

As her head sagged forward from the weight of a weary fog, her eyes drifted closed and she found herself dwelling on him; that reckless, devil may care, funny young male who captivated her so, and those warm moments they shared. She had to smile philosophically at how these relationships always seemed to go. 'Why is it that one moment, they're all over you, and the next, they could be in another galaxy? Men, I swear-'

A sound from behind reminded her that she wasn't alone, and she felt self-conscious from the romantic notions she was entertaining. "Guys... I'd kinda like some privacy-"

Her eyes opened wide in shock as something cold and metallic settled on her throat, and she thought briefly that one of the other two were pulling some evil prank on her. But there was a smell too, something sickly and disgusting that chilled her blood. She didn't have a chance to even cry out before it pressed inward, choking her painfully. And then as she grabbed at it, mortal terror eclipsed her pain as a voice rasped in her ear, "You really should be more attentive, my dear. You have no idea who might be coming up _behind you!_"

It was Tachyon, and he emphasized his words as he pulled the scepter into her throat cruelly. It was agony, and as she floundered at the snap securing her knife, she realized with horror that she was passing out, lacking even the strength to undo a little strap. As her ears began roaring from the pain of her impending death, she wailed her mind, 'Why aren't you here to save me! Why... _where are you...?_'

He tried to cry out, unable to stand it any longer, but the sound choked in his throat as he fell. Something struck him, and he looked around frantically for the cause as his world came into focus much too slowly. Ratchet cursed under his breath as he saw that he was back in Slim's Ship Shack. He had rolled off of the couch, and it had all been a dream, and once again, much _much_ too vivid. 'I have to get that out of my mind,' he whimpered to himself, wincing at the horrible image of Talwyn being brutally murdered at Tachyon's hand. He wondered uncomfortably if there wasn't something to all these dreams he was having.

He began to rub his eyes, gasping as a sharp pain flared in his shoulder. 'That metal slug... I have to see about that, first thing.' It worried him, as he'd never suffered through a foreign object in his body before, although it was almost a relief compared to that terrible dream. He wanted to take his mind off of both issues, heading over to where Slim was working tirelessly on Aphelion. "He-hey, look who's finally up!" the modder declared. "I told ya to take it easy, and I guess you weren't kiddin' around."

"Whadya mean-?" he began, glancing at his chronometer, then he gaped at it in shock. "_Eleven hours?_"

"Yep. Lunch time, champ," Slim remarked as Ratchet's stomach growled. "Sorry, but all I got to offer ya is yer leftovers."

"That's okay," he replied distantly, looking over the starship's fuselage. It already had a fresh paint job, just like it had originally. Slim didn't mess around when it came to the details. It felt good to have his mood lifting so quickly. "So, how far along are you?"

"Just wrappin' up, actually. It took some overtime to get 'er in top shape asap... ya put the poor girl through the wringer! She hadn't had her ten giga-kay inspection, either. And you bein' a Lombax 'n all? Shame on you."

"Well, I've been kinda busy..." he began half-defensively.

Aphelion added, "It has been rather hectic for a month or so."

Slim's eyes narrowed humorously. "Hey, just yankin' yer tail."

"Listen," Ratchet cut in, afraid that precious seconds were burning much too fast. "I need the name of a good doctor, someone who handles _rush jobs_."

"I gotcha," Slim told him knowingly. "Sorry I couldn't help ya out with yer... little problem, but I ain't got much more than Band-aids here, and anything I did might put ya in shock. But not to worry, I got just the doc for ya. Guy named Terwilliger, on Geisel."

"Terr... _williger?_" Ratchet was unable to mask a dubious squint. "Is he like... a _real_ doctor, or one of those guys who got his schooling from old reruns of Doctor How?"

"Hey, come on, ya make 'im sound like a vet or somethin'. Though... it's not like he don't take in the occasional pet..." When Ratchet seemed even more reluctant, the Technomite added, "Listen, he's about as good as I am, and he's got a heart o' gold... if a little half baked here'n there..."

"Well... okay, as long as it's on your say-so," Ratchet muttered, still wondering what he was getting into. "Anyway, what do I owe you?"

"Ehhh..." the modder drawled out thoughtfully. "Nuthin', on the house. After all, ya did yank me from prison, outta the _goodness_ of yer heart, 'n all." As sarcastically as he was putting it, a smile was still evident in his gaze. That didn't suit Ratchet, who went over to a payment station and inserted his Galactic Express, depositing three million bolts in the account. His eyes opening a bit, Slim asked curiously, "So... what's that for?"

"A tip," the Lombax replied with a thin smile as his wallet vanished back into the Manifestor.

The Technomite looked down with a grateful sigh, as he could really use the funds. "Ya know... yer gettin' soft in yer old age, Ratchet."

"Maybe I needed to," he said, his smile spreading. Nodding to Aphelion's open cockpit, he asked, "Can I hop in?"

"Sure thing," Slim replied, a pair of robot arms moving aside with a soft whine to allow him up. "I redid the upholstery too."

Feeling excited about getting going again, he did a flip, landing firmly in the seat as Slim rolled his eyes resignedly at the abuse his work would be taking. Settling into the flight seat, Ratchet gave a contented sigh. "Oh, man... this must be Luxurite!"

"You got a discerning... derriere, I gotta say," Slim told him with a smile in his voice. "I figgered this would be quite a road trip."

"Yeah, no kid-" Ratchet began, then he stopped short as he saw the open message screen, and the conversation Aphelion had with Sasha. He exclaimed, "Why didn't you wake me!"

As Slim looked up questioningly, Aphelion replied, "I'm sorry, Ratchet, but you were driving yourself to the brink of exhaustion, and you're injured to boot! Just think of how long you've slept."

"I'm _fine!_" he grumbled, reading through the text again anxiously, his dream nagging him. "Don't let me miss another message! She sounds so worried..." he sighed, his voice drifting to silence.

She decided not to let him know that the Cazar apparently fainted, murmuring repentantly, "I won't, Ratchet... I promise."

He groaned at his heated reaction, clenching a fist. "Aphelion... I'm sorry. It's just that... she means a lot to me."

"I understand," the ship replied, hoping that the message had been up long enough for Sasha to order a trace on it. Not that it was likely she would be able to arrive there before they left, but it could at least be a helpful link to her.

He tried to continue with this call, but the Phoenix was already in hypertransit. After the dream he'd just had, he wanted to speak with her desperately, in fact, all of them. But then... could that dream have been some kind of warning, about Talwyn specifically? He didn't want to lose any of them, but especially not her, not with that murderous scene still burning in his mind. He called out of the cockpit, "I have to go."

Slim's orbs bobbed knowingly. "I had a feelin' you'd say that."

"So... Geisel, is it?" remarked a figure as they consulted a star chart from a location just beyond detection range. "Maybe I should pay the good doctor a visit first."

* * *

Sasha lay her golden headpiece on the desk and stripped out of her clothes, throwing them into the laundry chute, glad to be rid of one source of disturbing scents. "Now, for the rest of it," she muttered as she went into the bathroom and entered the shower. They were still all around her, the fragrances of a dozen mixed emotions oozing disturbingly from her fur, and one in particular. She shook her head in dismay at herself, muttering, "What's wrong with me? I can't be wanting two men, especially not..." _Busby_, she thought inwardly, sadly. It was foolish to harbor such thoughts about the man. He was her First Officer, and entanglements with subordinates of _any_ kind were strictly forbidden. And besides, she wanted Ratchet... of course she did! Still, her heart wandered in the other direction, and she found herself wondering how he would smell standing behind her, how it felt to be held by a furless male, how it felt to...

She growled scoldingly at herself, "Sasha, stop it! You know better... you just broke up with-" She stopped herself, growing exasperated. They had _not_ been together, there was _no_ breaking up, she insisted to herself, even though it felt entirely otherwise. "This is utterly stupid," she chided, grasping the knob. "Maybe I need a cold shower-"

She gasped sharply as the spray of water drenched her, feeling as if needles were jabbing her all over. It wasn't cold, it was downright _frigid!_ She fought unsuccessfully to turn the water off without getting any more of it on her, grabbed a towel and made a mad dash for her desk, quivering and panting from shock.

Busby was leaning on his fist, staring into space and scarcely acknowledging anyone when they spoke to him, caught up in a melancholy funk. He knew it would have to end this way, or in some way much worse than this. He had known it all along, that it would come sooner than later, but the little kid inside refused to listen, hoping for some sort of miracle that would somehow keep them together. "That's what I get for listening to my inner kid," he grumbled to himself. "Of course, I always do..."

"Sir?"

He jumped as the voice of Lieutenant Mimo startled him from his sulk, and he realized he'd been speaking out loud. "Oh, uhh... just running over the... outcome of the last battle. Uhm... _carry on, Helmsman_," he said in his most dramatic voice, wishing he could run off and hide, though of course a ranking officer had to be on the bridge at all times. And then he very nearly lurched out of the Captain's seat when Sasha popped up on the small screen in front of him, looking drenched and clutching a towel that just managed to cover things he shouldn't be looking at. And as mad as he'd seen her yet.

"Busby!" she cried, so loudly that everyone on the bridge heard and turned to look. "_Did you forget to reactivate the water heaters?_"

Fumbling frantically for the volume control, he blurted out, "Sorry Sash - _Captain!_ I'll get right on that! I'll heat some and bring it down myself!" He felt his cheeks flushing when he realized what he'd just said, wishing he could somehow hide under the cushions as laughter came from all around the bridge.

Sasha began laughing herself in spite of her irritation. "No, thanks Busby, just... get it to a tolerable temperature quickly, please." Realizing that she was in a rather overexposed condition, she shrunk back in embarrassment, murmuring, "Uhm... later."

Busby squirmed in his seat as the message closed, grumbling, "Well... you heard the Captain! Get those systems back on line!"

"Yes _sir_," the Combat Officer replied through a chuckle as he set about checking over the ship's systems deactivated during the battle over Visceron.

"She sure doesn't make it easy on a guy she just threw away," Busby muttered under his breath, and despite his better judgment, he replayed Sasha's message, unaware that Helmut was observing him.

Sasha went back into the restroom and sat on the stool, shivering from both the cold and a fit of giggling. "I swear, that man... but, maybe a little chaos from Busby is just what we both need right now to get through this with our sanity intact." She watched the temperature indicator creeping upward from near zero, and despite knowing better, she couldn't resist imagining how it would feel for Busby to be holding her, sharing the warmth of his body.

* * *

Properly showered and dressed, Sasha felt a little better, but there was one more duty she had to tend to, one she dreaded. Going to the Engineering Section, she paused as one of the crew cried out her presence. When everyone rushed forward and snapped to attention, she gave the at ease, addressing Chief Engineer Tesla. "I came to see the casualties. How is Scout doing?"

"We're running diagnostics on him right now, though he isn't responding yet," Lieutenant Tesla replied as he escorted the Cazar to the robot maintenance area. "Evidently, there's some serious damage isolating the core from the rest of his systems, but we think he'll pull through all right. As for the other..." He looked forward to where the forms of Scout and Roby were lying on maintenance tables. "There's not much to look at."

Sasha came forward reluctantly, visibly wilting. Scout was a battered, shrapnel-pierced missile-like form, but the other was a melted wreck. She had to look away as his head unit seemed twisted in agony. She put her hands to her face, closing her eyes as she murmured, "Oh, my heavens... what... happened to him?"

"He, uhh... saved the ship for ya." A voice to her other side came to her, sounding strained, and she recognized it as Leftenant Pulverizer. "The ship lost power 'cause a main cable came loose... 'n... he used his body to bridge the gap..."

"Oh... my God..." she whispered, tapping her canines together as her eyes closed, and recalling the moment she cried out with joy at the surge of returning power, wincing from guilt. She found herself wishing desperately for Busby to come and hold her. "There are times I really hate this job..."

"Hey," Tesla said to her in placation, "this was a major battle we've just gone through. You saved the Phoenix, and thousands of lives. It could'a been a lot worse."

"I know, Mick," she began tiredly, "but-"

"C-captain?" Her eyes popped open as a robotic voice came over a damaged speaker beside her.

"Scout!" she cried, practically jumping to his side as Pulverizer and a crewman hastily wheeled the remains of the other robot to another room. "Listen... you should conserve your energy," she told him as she stroked his hull almost soothingly. "You've been through it, and then some."

Hu-how's the s-s-s-ship?" he asked in an electric stutter, one visual unit flickering with an intermittent glow.

"In one piece," she replied with a little smile, "thanks to you. Now, you idle down so that you can get patched up. Captain's orders."

"Aye-ay-y-y-ye, ma'am," he sputtered. "I want to return to duty as soo-"

She blinked as he abruptly fell silent, the glow in his eye flickering off. "Scout?" she asked insistently, then looked up as an amber light came on above them. "Oh, great," she muttered as the voice of Busby came over the speakers:

"Five minutes to arrival at Odum. All active duty crew report to duty stations."

"He's okay, isn't he?" Sasha asked the Chief Engineer nervously.

She heaved a sigh of relief as he nodded, consulting a display. "Peripheral systems are still wonky, but his core's intact."

"I... have to go," she informed Tesla as the repair crew set once more to the robot's recovery. "Make sure he's not another casualty."

"You can _count on us, ma'am!_" he called after the Cazar as she ran for the elevator, murmuring with a smirk, "Whatta woman..."

* * *

Talwyn shivered as she stroked her throat lightly. That dream had been _much_ too real, even causing her to awake to a tender throat, choking. 'Damn... this adventure is getting to me, too.' She looked to her communicator screen with a sigh, hoping for a distraction from the nightmare. "_Still_ no response?" Disappointment quickly became anger. "What's with you guys, that one minute you're all over a girl, and the next, you act like I don't even exist!" She lifted her hands to initiate a message, but then lowered them despondently. No, if he hadn't noticed her text message, it was because he was busy. "At least, you'd better be," she growled, "and busy in the right way! After the way you acted with me..." She fell quiet, not wanting to think of yet another male who had more than one girl on his mind.

She rested her head in her hand, wanting to cry. Was there any chance at all that Ratchet had survived? He was an incredibly lucky Lombax, but that message from Visceron seemed terribly sure. She closed her eyes, whimpering as she cradled her face in her hands, "Ratchet... somehow, by some miracle... _please_ be alive. Fang... couldn't it be true? I just can't imagine life without him-"

She jumped in her seat as the communicator beeped, her mind torn between two people she wanted to hear from badly, but was once again disappointed that it was neither of them. Doing her best to seem excited, she smiled as the Captain of the Phoenix II appeared on the screen. "Talwyn! Sasha here. It's good to see you again. How are you making out?"

"Not too well," she muttered, looking aside wistfully. When the Cazar began to inquire, Talwyn added hastily, "_I mean_... fine, all things considered. I just need a little patching up here and there."

Sasha looked to her in concern. "You're going to have to tell me all the details when you come aboard. Do you need a tug to get you to space?"

"No, I should be fine," she replied with a headshake. "When is orbit?"

"Less than twenty, so if you want to prep for launch, I'll let you go, and we can talk when you arrive."

"Great, see you then," she said with a smile. "Talwyn out." It quickly faded as she saw that there had still been no messages. Her voice became a growl as she declared hotly, "I _told_ you I was leaving... ohh, _men!_" Still sounding angry, she snapped over her shoulder, "Guys! Settle in, we're leaving!"

Zephyr hesitated, Cronk's head poised over the connecting ring on his neck, the two robots giving each other a wary look at the tone of her voice. "I think we'd better not ask-"

"Not a word," Cronk said over his friend in agreement.

* * *

Talwyn felt mixed up and still angry as she lifted the Odyssey Beta into space, her eyes spending most of the time staring at the communicator screen as she dared Slab to call her or face life threatening consequences. But as the ship achieved orbit and cruised to rendezvous with the Phoenix, the call didn't come. She fumed to herself, almost forgetting to keep her voice down, "Just you wait 'til I see you again! 'Melt me like chocolate,' _my a-!_"

"Odyssey Beta, this is Captain Sasha Phyronyx of the Solaran Navy Cruiser Phoenix II." Talwyn choked back her curse, jumping in her seat as the image of the feloid came up on the screen. "For the record, what are your intentions?"

"Oh, uhh..." she murmured as she tried to think of the wording for naval protocols. "Phoenix II, this is the civilian research ship Odyssey Beta, Talwyn Apogee piloting. I request permission to come aboard for minor repairs and replenishment."

Sasha smiled at the awkward start, saying to her, "Permission granted, Odyssey Beta. Proceed to landing bay three. I'll see you in a few. Sasha out."

The girl finally turned her attention to the starship she was approaching as she unstrapped for comfort, and had to double check her range. "_That's_ the Phoenix? Wow... she's _huge!_"

As she maneuvered the little vessel to the underside of the behemoth, Zephyr pushed forward, still carrying Cronk's head. "Wow is right! Th-that thing's practically a dreadnaught!"

"Hold me up there, pardner, so I can see too," Cronk demanded, and as Zephyr apologized, he whistled in amazement. "No kiddin'! Why... I ain't seen anything that big since... err..." He cast his gaze up to his friend, asking, "When did we see a ship that size?"

"The last Cragmite War?" Zephyr offered.

"Exactly!" Cronk shouted, his head bouncing up and down. "It's about time we saw some o' that old glory-"

"Guys, don't crowd," Talwyn said chidingly, though with a smile at their contagious enthusiasm. "I have to land this bucket, remember?"

As Zephyr moved aside with an apology, Talwyn lined the ship up with the strobes running along the belly of the monstrous vessel, guiding her to the landing bay which opened as she approached. Her eyes bugged open at the signs of damage in the rugged hull. "Oh my gosh... they must have taken a pounding!"

"No kiddin'..." Zephyr remarked in wonder. "L-looks like they got smashed with giant baseball bats!"

"From some really hacked off giants," Cronk added.

Talwyn could only wonder what had caused the hull of the Phoenix to take such punishment as she guided the Odyssey into the landing bay, keeping her distance from the support ships suspended from their moorings, centering it in the front of the chamber where the ship's entrance was located. Unfortunately, as the massive bay doors slid shut, there was a loud bang in the rear of the ship and the tail swung upwards. "Oh, no no _no!_" she exclaimed as she struggled to fire the positioning jets with just enough thrust to nudge it back level, but just then the artificial gravity cut in, and the Odyssey slammed to the deck, flopping like a hooked fish on its landing gear.

"I, uhm... think we landed," Zephyr remarked dryly, his legs sprawled over the back of the co-pilot's seat.

"If you can call it that," Cronk muttered. "Hey, get me outta your armpit."

"Very funny..." Talwyn groaned as she struggled to pull herself up from the deck. "That's what I get for unbelting early. Ow, my tail..."

Sasha ran forward in alarm, trailing a few officers as she approached the stricken vessel. "Oh my gosh... _Talwyn!_" she cried. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah..." the girl replied tentatively through an opening hatch, walking a bit gingerly down lowered steps. "Nothing that a little chiropractic care won't fix." She winced, emphasizing with a wrenching of her back and flex of her tail.

Sasha shook her head with a thin smile as she gazed up at the taller woman. "This is becoming too much of an adventure for everyone."

"Tell us about it," said Zephyr as he clomped down the walkway, carrying Cronk's head.

"Uhh... any wreck you can crawl away from...?" joked the First Officer as a headless robot tumbled down after them, falling to the deck with a crash.

"Hey now, ya young whippersnapper," Cronk grumbled, "that hits a little too close to home."

"Whippersnapper?" the bespectacled officer frowned. "Okay now-"

"Busby, please," Sasha told him, adding with a thin smile, "Chill... at least for now." Turning back to the newcomers, she said, "Well... first of all, now that the chaos seems to be overwith, welcome aboard. Some introductions are in order. This is my First Officer slash Science Officer, Busby Birdwell. Beside him is Chief Engineer Tesla, Ensign Whipple and Senior Chief Petty Officer Sharkey, who are here to see to your ship's repairs. And, uh..." she added as Cronk's body struggled to find his feet, "your robot friend as well."

"Thanks, I'm pleased to meet you all," Talwyn said to them with a polite little bow. "These are Cronk and Zephyr, two old friends of my father who do their best to keep me out of trouble." She couldn't resist giving them a little tweak. "Although they seem to stir up plenty of their own..."

"Okay now," Cronk protested, if a bit feebly, "we resemble that remark."

"A bit too well, ol' buddy," added his friend.

Sasha giggled, "The pleasure is ours, I assure you."

"I just... uhm... hope this isn't too much trouble." Talwyn cast a concerned look to her ship which was listing slightly to one side, and making a quiet rumbling, popping noise to the rear. "One ay you... right..."

"Hey, a friend 'o the Cap'n's is a friend of ours, right Whip?" blurted out the Petty Officer a bit brashly, which was surprising since Whipple was his superior. Rules must be relaxed here, which made her feel a little more comfortable.

"Yes, but we'd better get on with it," the Ensign remarked, guiding a large tool chest to the rear with a remote. "She doesn't sound too happy."

The Chief Engineer followed them to the rear of the ship, giving a simple "Ma'am" and nod of the head as he passed Talwyn by. The First Officer seemed to feel out of place, saying a little quietly, "I... think I'll lend a hand to your robot, who's kind of beside himself. Literally."

As he helped Cronk's body awkwardly to his feet, the old soldier muttered, "I don't like leavin' my fate in the hands o' some smart alecky geeky type."

"Hey, come on now," Zephyr chided him. "He could finally give you a sense o' humor."

Cronk tried to glare up at his friend as they followed. "What's wrong with my sense o' humor?"

"Well, I guess if ya ain't got one, ya can't exactly say there's anything wrong with it..."

As the girls fought down another round of giggles, Sasha said to Talwyn, "You have some very... colorful companions, I must say."

"Yeah, they're characters, all right, but they really mean the world to me." She turned back to gaze into Sasha's eyes for a time, all sorts of emotions beginning to swim in her heart. "Boy... it seems like forever ago that we first talked. So much has happened..."

"I know..." Sasha murmured. "It's just getting started, and it's already so rough..."

Talwyn opened her mouth to say something, but before she knew it, she grabbed Sasha in a tight embrace, trembling with emotion. The Cazar was caught off guard, but had been struggling with similar feelings for far too long and returned it warmly. After a time, Talwyn released her and stepped back, snuffling and wiping a way a tear with an awkward smile. "I... don't know why I did that... I'm usually not this emotional, but... everything is just crazy, and I was so worried about you..."

"Oh, listen, girlfriend..." Sasha murmured, stroking Talwyn's arm lightly, "believe me, I understand. You don't know how close I came to a nervous breakdown more than once. When you wouldn't leave Visceron, I could have thrown up, and then when I found out you'd been attacked anyway..."

"Hey, I didn't want to leave," Talwyn informed her. "Besides, look what happened to your ship! It's a miracle you won from the looks of it. I was scared to death for you!"

"Oh, hey now, this coming from the girl who came limping back to my ship in that condition?" She grabbed Talwyn's hand, declaring, "We're having that talk, right now. What happened to you here?"

"Oh come on, that's not fair. You look like you went tearing sideways through an asteroid belt!" Talwyn exclaimed, grabbing Sasha's other hand. "You first!"

The Cazar smirked up at Talwyn in disbelief. "I can't believe we're arguing over who's going to tell their misadventure first... _yesss, Busby_," she added dryly, watching as the First Officer hesitantly crept towards them. "Make it snappy, we're... bonding here."

Talwyn fought down a laugh as Busby muttered, "Weee... have to leave."

But as she watched him, the humorous mood withered up inside her. Something was wrong, and naturally, Sasha noticed it too. "Busby, what do you mean?"

"Sash..." he began, then gave Talwyn a glance. "Captain, we gotta go. Right now."

"Busby, spill it," she demanded. Sasha bore an expression that hinted at dealing with a First Officer who gave things out in bits and hints.

"The Cragmites are going to invade," he confessed, and he seemed very sure of it from the intensity of his emotions.

Sasha was confused. "Why? We just left-"

"I know," the First Officer interrupted, "but they're going to come here looking for their lost ship. And when they find the wreck, they'll take it out on Odum, and any other habitable world in the system. They'll occupy, and claim it for the empire."

At first, Sasha was astonished, but then she mentally put her foot down. "No they won't, because we're going to fight them!"

"You're damn right, we are-!" Talwyn declared, but she faltered at the pained expression on the man's face, growing afraid.

"No, Captain..." he said quietly, knowing the reaction which was coming, "we can't."

"And just why in flaming black hell _can't we?_" Sasha demanded. "This is a capital ship of the Solanan Navy!" Still, something inside her wilted, as she didn't expect a reaction like this from Busby unless it was deadly serious.

He drew a deep breath as he sought for something concise and definitive. "Because... they won't stop coming. Even if we beat them, another wave will come, an even bigger fleet, and if by some miracle we defeat them, an even bigger one. It'll be a war of attrition, one we can't win. Eventually, the Phoenix will be overwhelmed, and... well, it would be better to be destroyed than captured. And for the people of Odum, it will be..." He licked his lips, murmuring defeatedly, "Genocide..."

Sasha felt dizzy from the emotions seething through her small body, grabbing Busby's arm for support. She coughed out hoarsely in disbelief, "It just... can't be... there _has to be_ another way!" She looked into her First's eyes defiantly. "We'll call for reinforcements-"

He grabbed her sternly by the arms, jolting her. "Sasha, listen. You're a Fleet Officer, schooled in strategy and tactics. No one will respond. These aren't Drophyd mercenaries, these are _Cragmites_. No one is ready to begin the next Cragmite War yet, you know that. The Confederation is still too fragmented, weak and afraid. Bogon and Solana are just in the early stages of preparation for war, and they'd only join in if it was absolutely necessary, and _only_ when they were geared up for it. You know how it works. War requires millions of man hours of preparation. No one can afford to go in shooting blindly, or the loss of life would be horrible, and you'd be almost guaranteed to lose. So it's like this: either we leave and Odum suffers a small invasion force, or the Phoenix finally gets destroyed, and Odum becomes the graveyard spearhead in this region from three or four Cragmite _fleets!_ The math is pretty simple." He couldn't bear to see the expression in his beloved Captain's eyes and let her go, turning aside to avoid her gaze. To drive the point home, he finished weakly, though he hated to say every word. "Sasha, come on... we'd... just end up getting everyone killed..."

Talwyn cupped her face in her hands, blinking back tears of horror. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, that they would just abandon the people of Odum to the murderous hands of those monsters... her friends... _Slab_...

"No..." She thought she'd said it herself, but it came from Sasha, as she couldn't muster the breath herself to speak. She jumped as the little Cazar clenched her fists and screamed, loudly, blinking back her own tears of frustration and rage. From around the rear of the ship, the other crewmen began to run forward, but halted when Busby put up his hand. As the outcry echoed through the nooks and hollows of the chamber still, Sasha stammered through clenched teeth, "I just... c-can't do this... I swore an oath to protect life." But in the back of her mind, she dimly recalled something about the Cragmite Wars, of how they would sometimes sacrifice entire fleets with no regard to strategic sanity to reverse a defeat, and she knew in her soul that Busby was right. He winced as she dug her claws into his arm, whimpering desperately, "Busby... _please_... give me some answer... some other way..."

He cringed as he felt blood in his sleeve, but realized that it was from her own palms. He took her hands and held them gently, fixing his gaze in hers as she stood there, panting with emotion, and fought to keep it steady. "Sasha, listen... it would be a lot better to let this happen. This way, the people of Odum will live. I know it sounds cruel, it sucks, but listen. War is going to come. I've studied too much history to think it won't. When it happens, the Cragmites won't defend an out-of-the-way dirtball like Odum, and any residual forces left behind, the Confederation will be able to handle. Heck, the people might be able to throw them out themselves if they stay." He felt disheartened when she gazed back at him, lifeless, her eyes glimmering from anguish. "It's... all I can give you, Sasha... I'm sorry."

After standing there hollowly for a time, she drew away from her First Officer, shuffling around, as she seemed to lack the strength to lift her feet but needed to pace. "This... is intolerable. What kind of answer is that?" she murmured faintly, giving a plaintive look to Busby, who could only sigh and gaze downward.

"Slab... _no_..." Talwyn murmured into her hands, unable to hold back her own anguish any longer.

Sasha looked to her, asking weakly, "Is this a friend of yours, on Odum?" She dreaded the answer she knew was coming, and Talwyn, being too upset to talk, simply nodded. For lack of anything else, she gave voice to her own perplexion. "I just... don't know what to do..."

He knew he had to get her to focus, saying gently but directly, "I told you what's gonna happen if we stay-"

"I know, Busby... I know..." she murmured hollowly, and it seemed ever so slowly, she was regaining her senses and her strength. "We have to let the Confederation know... warn the people of Odum what's coming." She wiped a lingering tear from her eye, but felt a different kind of moisture, looking at her hands and shaking her head in dismay when she saw blood, murmuring, "Oh, crapping hell..." She began fumbling at the pouch strapped to her thigh for a towelette.

"Here, let me..." Busby appeared in front of her, wiping at her face with one of his own. Gratitude mingled with anguish as she gazed up at him, but in the midst of her turmoil, his closeness gave her a melancholy peace. She wished with all her heart that this was all a dream, a very twisted dream, except for this part, the caring touch of this man as he tended to her so gently, so lovingly.

"Is that all?"

The couple looked up to see Talwyn staring at them with an intensity that made Sasha blink. "Is that all you're gonna do? Just... run off with your tails between your legs and let those... monsters invade, and kill... who knows how many people? Just because you're scared of what they _might do?_"

There was a tone in her voice that worried Sasha, as she recognized it in herself earlier, when she was less than rational. What could she say to the girl, when she didn't want to hear it herself? "Talwyn... listen, I don't like this any more than you do. But... I just... can't take the chance that I might cause the obliteration of-"

"And you don't think the Cragmites _won't_ do that if you let them do whatever the hell they want?" There was a quaver in her voice that both of them knew indicated a girl on the verge of desperation. "Ratchet wouldn't run off like that!"

"Talwyn, hon... I know," Sasha told her gently, "but... he couldn't do anything about the invasion of Igliak, and he's in no position to do anything right now-"

"_Don't you think I know that?_" she practically shrieked, hating to be reminded that her beloved Lombax was dead. "But I know... that he wouldn't just... stand idly by, while something like this was going to happen!"

Sasha clenched her teeth tightly, frustrated at how convoluted this whole situation was, and how hurtful that it was tormenting her friend. "Talwyn, listen, please... I want to... you must know how _badly_ I want to blast every Cragmite in this galaxy, but... this ship, my crew... Odum... countless people are depending on me to do the smart thing... to keep them alive, and... I just... _can't_..." She was almost gasping when she ran out of words to speak, they were so painful.

"Fine. You don't have to." She took a step forward, telling them flatly, "Just let me go."

Sasha and Busby both gaped at her in astonishment, though she understood very quickly that the girl meant it. She was also painfully aware that it could well get her killed. "Talwyn, honey..." she began softly, "think, please. What do you hope to accomplish?"

"I don't know," she admitted, "except that one guy won't end up dead unless they go through me first."

Sasha gaped at her anxiously, worried that she may well lay her life down for a friend, and scrambled for something the least bit persuasive. "Talwyn... please, just think about what you're saying, and what this means in regard to rescuing Clank. I need you, and Clank does at least as much. He's depending on us. It's going to take all of us working together to solve this, and get him back somehow. He's my friend too, you know."

Talwyn seemed to waver for a moment, but only for a moment. "You can't just put the life of one friend before another," she said stubbornly. "Let me go, or I'll make you."

Sasha mustered up some actual outrage at that remark and snapped back, "Now see here, young lady. I know just how you feel, but you are _not_ going to threaten me on my own-"

She froze, gasping as Busby clutched her to him tightly, their eyes fixed intently on the girl. Talwyn had drawn her blaster and trained it on them. "Sasha, I'm sorry, really I am... I know all the arguments, and how stupid this is... but I have to do this."

"Now, what in tarnation is all this commotion...?" From behind the ship, Cronk peeked around the edge, still adjusting his head to his neck, but he had to see as he didn't like the sounds coming from the discussion in front of the vessel. And then he had to shake his head vigorously and take another look, not believing at first what he was seeing. "Oh, felgercarb..." he gasped.

"Oh, w-what are you felgercarbin' about-?" Zephyr began, stopped short as Cronk pointed towards the nose of the ship, and then he nearly lost his lower jaw again. "Holy hadrons! She's gone an' blown a fuse!"

"A whole dang bank of 'em," Cronk murmured guardedly, to which Zephyr could only nod in agreement.

"Talwyn..." Sasha gasped, her gaze locked on that barrel aimed at her, trying to maintain some measure of composure. "Honey, listen to me-"

"Stop saying that!" she cried. "I'm not a child!"

Sasha nodded, licking her lips as Busby clutched her to him, the smell of fear growing thick all around them. "I know, I know... just hear me out, all right? There is no way you're going to commandeer this ship. There are too many safeguards. There is also no way you can leave without my permission, and I'm not about to let you throw your life away."

She leaned back into Busby's embrace as the girl tightened her grip on the pistol. "You don't have any choice. I'm leaving if I have to blast my way out of here."

"Hey, kid, be reasonable!" Busby exclaimed. "Your ship is all shot up. You barely made it here. There's no way you'll be able to outrun a Cragmite _tugboat_ in that thing. You'll be stranded!"

He flinched back as she cried, "Don't call me a kid! I'm not helpless, and sure not as helpless as you are. I'll steal an Imperial Cruiser if I have to. Now... this discussion is over. _Guys!_" she called to the back of the vessel. "Have the crew button the ship down! We're outta here!" Sasha began to cry out but cut herself short as Talwyn raised her blaster threateningly. "Don't even." She couldn't have said anything anyway, as Busby practically smothered her in a protective embrace.

The pair of robots stopped in their approach to the ugly scene, turning and giving each other a shrug. "Well, there goes talkin' things out..." Cronk muttered.

"She always was headstrong, like 'er dad," Zephyr remarked.

"Oh, worse 'n Max," Cronk insisted. "She's a _girl_."

The other nodded in agreement. "Dang if you ain't right on that, ol' buddy."

Lieutenant Tesla approached them, asking, "What was that about closing the ship up already?"

He blinked as the pair of robots pushed him back, Cronk telling the officer in his fumbling way, "Oh, you didn't hear? We, uh, have to go back planetside for, uhh..."

"Th-the moss covered, three handled, family credenza!" Zephyr continued.

"Rare family hairloom," Cronk added.

"I've never heard of anything like that," Tesla said dubiously.

"See?" asked Zephyr. "I-it's downright priceless, I tell ya!"

"One of a kind," Cronk insisted. "You'd best get to buttonin'."

The officer still wasn't convinced, calling forward, "Captain, you want us to call it quits on this boat for the time being?"

When Sasha remained stubbornly silent, Talwyn squeezed her grip on the weapon, muttering, "Answer him, or-" The First Officer blinked in shock as the girl raised the barrel to his face, saying in an icy tone, "I'll shoot _him_."

Busby blurted out, wide eyed, "C-couldn't we settle this with rock-paper-scissors?"

"I'm not talking to you!" she snarled. "Well?"

Sasha's heart lurched in her chest as both of them clung to each other in terror, afraid for Busby's wellbeing. She watched the girl's tail as it whipped back and forth in a sign of bound up tension. Any other time, she wouldn't suspect Talwyn to be capable of such violence, but this was different. "Go ahead!" she shouted. "Get 'er as spaceworthy as you can."

She began to pull away from Busby as if to confront Talwyn, and he held onto her tightly, hissing, "Wait - are you crazy?"

"Let me go!" she ordered, jerking out of his arms to stand between him and the belligerent girl. "I'm not about to let you harm my friend either."

The anger in Talwyn's eyes finally subsided, looking instead to the Cazar pleadingly. "I know, just... please, don't keep me here. I _have_ to do this... _I just have to._"

Sasha looked to the deck, at Talwyn's feet and legs, at the way her tail was swinging, trying to size things up, work out the odds of winning a scuffle with the larger girl, but she knew Talwyn was a seasoned fighter. It would be risky. "How did this all get so screwed up?" she whispered. Raising her eyes to look into the girl's face, she asked, "After all we've been through, as much as I need your help, you pull a stunt like this?" She took a step forward, asking quietly, "Talwyn... what am I supposed to do without you?" She ignored a hiss of alarm from Busby.

The girl looked pained and couldn't answer for a time, edging away to keep her distance. "I won't stay away... I'll come back when I can... I promise."

'Well, looks like sympathy won't make her crack,' Sasha thought to herself, but took another small step forward. "Like... your father promised?"

That seemed to sting an old wound in the girl's heart, and Sasha felt sorry for digging it up, but she had to try everything she could think of. "No! Listen... just stop it, okay? I can't just do nothing. _Please_ understand..."

"Talwyn, hon, I do..." the Cazar said quietly, still pressing slowly forward, "but I can't bear the thought of you ending up dead for no good reason, when I'm going to need everyone's help to have a chance in hell of finding Clank. And after so many mishaps and disasters, to finally meet, just to have you run off when I want to get to know you, maybe to... never see you again?" She held out her hand, imploring, "Talwyn... please, give me the blaster. You know I hate this as much as you do... maybe we can work something out." She put all her emotion into the request, and it didn't take much effort, giving the girl a wretched look.

Talwyn felt torn, keeping her distance because she knew that Sasha would probably try to jump her, and a part of her wanted to be stopped, wanted to be kept there. It had been such a long time coming, something she was looking forward to. It hurt to think that she would be running off after just making it to the Phoenix and meeting this charming rival, someone she wanted to get to know very much, and to threaten her and her friend like this. But after the terrors she had experienced from Zordoom Prison, and what little she had seen of Tachyon's iron fisted rule, she couldn't stand the thought of leaving when Odum would be denied any kind of help. And Slab... if he died too, she knew the death of two friends would be too much to take. She shook her head regretfully, moaning, "Sasha... I just _can't_-"

"Hey!" The three of them jumped as an outcry came from the rear of the ship, and Lieutenant Tesla came running forward with the others, wielding tools threateningly, shouting, "Drop the weapon, ma'am!"

"Why you sneaky-!" Talwyn cried, leveling the blaster at Sasha, as she had been pressed around the nose of the ship into plain view. Busby's stomach lurched at the thought of Sasha getting shot and flung himself around her, throwing himself to the deck with a yelp of pain from the hard surface. "Hold it right there or I'll...!" she began, but her voice trailed off, replaced by laughter.

Cronk had run ahead of the trio, Zephyr trailing, and the pair had grappled the three men between them, linking arms and legs in a living trap of sorts. The crewmen struggled and cursed but were helpless to break the hold of the two robots. "The patented quadruple axis multi-target robometric entrapment maneuver!" Cronk announced.

Zephyr laughed, "Y-you even got the name right! This is just like the time we created it on Outpost Zenith!"

"That was one hell of a bar brawl," Cronk agreed. "The guys still owe us for savin' their hides when the empees showed up."

"All right, _enough reminiscing!_" bellowed Lieutenant Tesla. "Release us or you'll be tossed in the brig with Miss Apogee for threatening a flag officer with a deadly weapon!"

"Wh-why, I'll have you know that Miss Talwyn wouldn't hurt a fly! Without good cause..." Zephyr informed them.

"Besides, you young'uns 're in no position to be givin' anyone orders, least of all Lieutenant Commander Cronk."

"_And_ Lieutenant Commander Zephyr," his friend added, rubbing a digit along Ensign Whipple's ribs for emphasis, who coughed out an objection before succumbing to a fit of laughter.

"Hey! This is a little too intimate even for the Navy!" Sharkey exclaimed. "Come on, this is against the Intercluster Convention on the Fair Treatment of Officers! And Whip, get that wrench out of my... jewels, would'ja?"

"Oh, like I can move _anything!_" the Ensign shouted.

"Hush up you young whelp, or you're next," Cronk said in as threatening a voice as he could manage.

Busby looked behind him, still lying on the deck clutching Sasha, who just managed to peek over his shoulder at the outrageous sight. "Hey... you mean I'm not gonna get killed?"

"If you keep holding me like _that_, you are," Sasha grumbled, as the man hadn't been too careful where his hands wound up.

"Oh! Uh... sorry!" he blurted out, jerking away from the ruffled feloid and repositioning his glasses in embarrassment. "I was just trying to selflessly defend your life." He added under his breath, "Besides, it's not like I could get any satisfaction..."

"Not the time or place, Busby!" hissed the Cazar.

They both flushed with shock as Talwyn remarked, smirking, "Cute couple. Now, get up. We're going to the Deck Station."

Sasha was aghast. "Talwyn, come on, girl, see reason!"

She brandished her pistol at the Cazar, causing Busby to step between them. "Hey, I still have this, and it says _I'm_ the boss. Now, march." As they began resignedly to head for the deck port airlock, Cronk and Zephyr tottered along behind, the men complaining loudly at the jarring they had to endure.

Sasha waited at the heavy dock doors, looking to the girl with a mixture of anger and worry on her face. "Talwyn, please... don't go through with this. Stay. We can manage... something..."

While she was still on edge from the larcenous treatment she was forced to use on them, her gaze softened for a moment. "Hey... nice try, and... I honestly appreciate it. And I'm sorry, really sorry, but... I'm just not the kind of person who can walk away from something like this. I don't know if you'll ever want to speak to me again after all this, or... if I can do anything to make up for it, but... hey, it's just got to be." She punched the large door button, and when the massive slabs of metal slid aside to both the Dock Station and the ship, she motioned with her pistol, saying simply, "In."

Sasha eyed the opening with a tightness in her throat. This was it, she knew, the last chance she had to keep this from going any further. Talwyn wasn't a killer, she knew that full well, but she knew what could happen when even the mildest of people became desperate. And she also knew what would happen if things got out of hand. Busby would do anything to protect her, and likely get himself killed. She withered inside as the image came to mind of his body sprawled on the floor in dreadful, morbid detail, and a tremor ran through her. "No..." she whispered, and meekly walked through the door, Busby positioning himself faithfully between her and the pistol wielding girl. That stupid, wonderful man...

"Okay guys, dump 'em inside," Talwyn ordered the two robots. They clunked within, jarring the poor prisoners further, and then unwrapped from each other as the three crewmen unceremoniously tumbled into the corridor. "Back!" she snapped as she could see Sasha trying to jump over the three men trying to get to their feet, but fortunately they made the perfect obstacle, giving her time to get the doors closed. The two bots watched in fascination as she whipped a silver-gray substance out of her leg pouch and slapped it into the seam between the doors. Then, adjusting her blaster, she fired a beam into the concoction which blazed gold for a moment, then faded quickly dark to a solid metallic weld.

"Woah," Zephyr coughed out, "y-you've been readin' your dad's diaries!"

"Well, yeah," Talwyn replied with a lopsided grin as she jammed a card into a slot on the Deck Station console. "Guys, go warm up the ship - and make sure it's intact!" she added as they went clomping off to it. She tried not to notice the shadows of the people crowded around the crystal panes in the doors watching her hack into the system.

Sasha pounded the door controls, growling as it buzzed yet again, a red _Malfunction_ message appearing on the display. "What the hell did she do!"

Busby drew his hand back with a hiss as he touched the still hot metal near the seam. "I have a feeling that... these doors aren't gonna open for a while." He joined the others watching Talwyn at work on the console.

"Get some men on those doors!" she snapped to Tesla, bringing her wrist comm to her face as the engineer dashed off. "Bridge!"

"Bridge, Lieutenant Boil here," came the electric reply.

"Lock down Landing Bay Three, right this second!" she ordered. She didn't know whether to feel confident or not, when the officer called back a moment later.

"Captain... we've lost access to the bay. Something's locked us out!"

She jumped to the doors, pushing her way roughly to the window, just in time to see Talwyn dashing off towards her ship, casting a forlorn glance over her shoulder. "No..." she whispered, then shouted much louder, "Emergency lockdown on all three bays!"

She could see Talwyn running through her pre-flight routine through the front ports of her ship, and the rumble of its engines coming to life through the floor plates, along with the hiss of air being evacuated from the bay. She had the dreadful feeling she had lost her already when the officer messaged back. "Captain, it's no good. Bay Three is completely offline."

"I can't believe this..." she muttered as an alarm buzzed and the bay doors began to open. The gravity in the bay had shut off, and she could only watch helplessly as the Odyssey Beta began to slowly drift from view, and at the controls, a sad looking young girl.

Something occurred to the Cazar as she replayed the scene in her mind, groaning in dismay as she recalled Talwyn adjusting her weapon. "Oh, of _course_... she had her blaster modified. It was set to _stun!_"

Busby blinked at her in surprise. "Your friend _modifies weapons?_ Well, _that_ would have been nice to know when I almost wet myself!"

"Look, all I could think of was-!" _You getting hurt_, she nearly said, just managing to catch herself. Leaning back against the wall, she muttered, "I... couldn't think..."

"Hey... it's okay," he said to her quietly as he stood close, gazing at her somberly, and trying half heartedly to keep his mind on business. "Any ideas? Wanna go after her?"

"Of course I do." She had to get away, literally, bolting down the hallway and calling over her shoulder, "Busby, follow me!"

It was a very quiet ride to the bridge in the elevator, and Sasha had too much time to think of all that had happened, and in particular, every nuance that involved Busby. All his emotions, his fears, when he held her, _how_ he held her when he was scared to death Talwyn was going to shoot her, and countless things beside. He was nothing if not a bundle of unexpected surprises; sometimes exasperating, but mostly endearing, wonderful things. As she gazed at his chest, thinking of the warm heart that beat within, and the scents wafting from him in the enclosed space which she knew were inspired by her presence, she murmured, "I don't know whether to throttle you, Busby, or give you a raise."

He shrugged to her. "Well... a little of both wouldn't be so bad."

She erupted into grateful laughter, and when she regained control, wiping back a tear she asked aloud, "Oh, Busby, what would I do without you around? _Rhetorical question_," she hastened to add with a grin as the elevator opened to the corridor just off the bridge, and populated with traffic.

"Understood," he smirked as he set off at her heels, this time taking a moment to admire her.

"Captain'z onn der bri-!"

"You're relieved, Mister Boil," Sasha said over the brawny Security Officer, making quickly for her chair. "Where is that ship?"

"She's loitering below the Phoenix," Lieutenant Mimo reported as she sat down. "That girl doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry."

"Well, _that's_ not a good sign," she muttered under her breath as Busby took up his position beside her. "Lola, patch me through to her."

Talwyn bopped her fists on the console in frustration, a little harder each time, as the engines were slow to come to optimum power. "Come on, come _on!_" she grumbled. "They're gonna come after us, and we're just sitting-!"

She jumped as the console beeped, growling irritably at herself, "I'm getting seriously tired of that."

Sasha appeared on the screen, looking understandably cheesed off. She was surprised that the Cazar didn't start with a royal chewing out, asking, "Talwyn, what's wrong? I thought you'd be trying to break speed records getting to Odum."

"Ohh... the ion feeder induction coils are slow to warm up, and it's holding the engines back," she admitted. "I'll be on my way in a sec. And _please_, don't try to stop me."

"Talwyn... don't you think that's a sign you're jumping the gun? Why don't you come back to the Phoenix?" She gave the girl a motherly look, if still a bit angry.

"Won't'cha just throw us in the brig?" Cronk asked, the two robots coming to either side of Talwyn's seat.

"I'm certainly tempted, let me tell you," Sasha grumbled. "But... no, you won't be imprisoned."

Talwyn began, "That's not the point!"

"I know," the Cazar interrupted. "If our roles were reversed, and I was worried about the safety of..." Her eyes flicked to the man at her side, and she continued a little quietly, "-A friend, I'm sure I would do the same thing. Just as I'm sure you would do everything in your power to keep me from doing something crazy."

"Hey, I'd come along and help out," Talwyn said with a thin smile.

"I know you would," she replied with a brief one of her own. "But... you've never been a ship's captain, or you'd know what a heavy responsibility it is."

The girl's heart softened at the expression on Sasha's face as her eyes fell, and she whispered, "You want to, don't you..."

"Yes," Sasha confessed, tugging her lips into a lopsided smile. "But... you understand. And I hope you understand why it's so hard to let you go."

"I do..." she sighed, "and I'm sorry it had to end up like this." She stopped as a strange look came over the Cazar's face.

Sasha didn't know if it would make a difference, but there was a certain detail she'd forgotten. "Talwyn... there is one thing I've been meaning to tell you." She gripped the armrest as it was still an emotional matter to her as well. "Ratchet is alive."

She reacted as if she'd been slapped in the face, jerking and giving a loud squeal. "Ratchet... he's okay? How! Where is he!"

"I'm not quite sure how he survived, but we've traced his position to an uncharted location where he's evidently recovering," Sasha informed her, adding for emphasis, "If you hurry up and rejoin the Phoenix, we can go to him, together."

Talwyn held her head in her hands, her cheeks burning and blinking back bitter tears. "Sasha... that's really mean, keeping that from me!"

She was sorry she'd said that as it clearly hurt the feloid. "Talwyn, honey... I didn't, it's just that it's been a little crazy around here. And your antics haven't helped in that regard one bit." She looked to the girl hopefully, asking, "Now... will you come aboard?"

She tried not to cry, but still the tears rolled down her cheeks as she felt torn in two, fighting to come to a decision. It had been such a long, hard journey, especially when she'd heard the Lombax she cared for so dearly had been killed. She was anxious to be with him, so much so that she was nauseous. But when it came down to it, what choice did she have? "A-after this," she managed to blubber out. "I have to make sure someone's okay, if Busby's right. You... go on ahead, and I'll hook up later. And be sure and give Ratchet hell for what he put us through." Just then, the engines roared to life as all systems began to perform, as if confirming her decision.

Sasha tried to muster up a smile, but it just wouldn't come, and she replied weakly, "I will... and you be careful, or I won't forgive you."

"Promise," Talwyn returned as quietly, looking to the controls and plotting a course to the starport she'd just come from. "I gotta go."

Sasha looked down unhappily as the screen went dark, murmuring, "Busby... for once, you'd better be dead wrong."

"Hey, how do you think I feel?" he asked quietly, putting his hand on her shoulder, feeling her body tense and shift as mixed emotions swam through her bosom. He drew it back as he realized everyone was watching them, and knew he had to nudge her to action, as they might not have much time. "So... are we going to that uncharted station Lola found?"

She looked out the forward viewport at the backwater world, and the streak of fire thrusting her friend into a potentially life threatening fate, hunched forward in worry. She was as torn as Talwyn was. It seemed that it had taken forever to get to this point, to finally know where Ratchet was, and not just vaguely, but at a definite location. How many such opportunities would she have? Still, she couldn't take her eyes from that slowly disappearing ship, and the girl aboard it who was racing towards such a dreadful future.

The seconds wore on, and still she said nothing. "Uhm... Captain?"

Finally, she sat upright. "Mister Mimo, take the Phoenix to the blind side of the far moon."

The First's eyes bugged out, and he began warningly, "Uhh... Captain, I _highly_ suggest you remember what I-"

"The matter is closed, Busby," she said in a voice that couldn't be more final.

"Well... I guess I shouldn't be surprised," he murmured, drawing his chair over with the remote and sitting beside her as the ship turned about and surged forward. "Listen, anything happens, and we're gonna be winging it. It's gonna be a real roll of the dice, and probably not as tidy as it was at Visceron."

Her stomach lurched when he said that, and he blinked in surprise as she grasped his hand, murmuring, "I know." Of course she knew that inside. How else could it be? But his warning caused her to face the matter seriously, and the terrible implications. The Phoenix was still battered from the last conflict with repairs still underway, and would be for some time yet. The spot on the chin where the hull was burned away would require a shipyard repair, and she had no idea when they would have time for that. What danger would she be putting the crew into? She gazed into the man's eyes silently, wanting to open up to him in the worst way, say things she really shouldn't, and his breath caught as she whispered hesitantly, "Busby, I..."

A beep from the helm console caused her to fall silent, and all eyes went to Lieutenant Mimo. His voice was tight as he reported, "Ma'am, I have hyperjump signatures... ships inbound, dozens of them." Sasha clenched Busby's hand tightly as he said the only thing they could be. "Imperial Cragmite vessels."

Sasha's eyes bugged open as she scrambled to focus on the best course of action. "Orange Alert!" she cried, still grasping Busby's hand fiercely. "Full stealth!" They didn't have anything as sophisticated as cloaking technology, as it wouldn't work on anything as large as a warship, so they had to make do with quelling all lights and emissions. She prayed briefly that it would be enough.

"We're still three minutes away from Debble, ma'am, even coasting," the Helmsman said to her advisedly as the ship's alarm began sounding. "We'll be out in the open 'til we make the penumbra."

Her stomach twisted as she thought of another ship out in the open, hissing, "Oh my God, Talwyn..." Then remembering Mimo hadn't acted yet, she ordered, "Do it. Hopefully their attention will be on the planet." As the engines cut power drastically with the slightest sensation of drifting, she shouted to the Communications Officer, "Raise the Odyssey, and on a damn tight beam!"

"I'd... better get to my station," Busby said to her, squeezing her hand back. "I have a feeling it's gonna be a long day. And... I hope you finish what you started to tell me."

She stared into the man's eyes anxiously, praying that things would work somehow and she would have that chance to confess what was in her soul. "I will, Busby." She released his hand, afraid precious seconds were wasting, and waved him off, hissing, "Shoo!" Just then, the main monitor came to life as the link with the research ship was established.

Talwyn propped her head up with one hand, complaining to herself, "Why does life have to be so damned messed up-?" She jumped in her seat yet again as the console beeped and a call popped up on her screen. "I have got to stop doing that - _what!_" she cried, as once again it was the image of the Cazar. But her anger died quickly at the expression on the woman's face, replaced with terror at what she said.

"Talwyn, get to Odum as fast as you can, and away from major cities!" Sasha exclaimed. "There's a Cragmite invasion forced heading right for you at your six!"

"What?" Talwyn practically shrieked, looking over her shoulder instinctively. "Couldn't you have waited a faqing _hour?_" Realizing that Sasha probably hadn't messaged the planet, she opened an emergency channel to the main spaceport. "Odum Port Authority! Head's up! You have an incoming invasion fleet! They're _Cragmites!_ Odum Port! _Please acknowledge-!_"

The robot Port Boss appeared on the screen, saying, "I have you, Odyssey Beta..." His voice trailed off as he somehow managed to look horrified. "You say _Cragmites?_" When she nodded emphatically, beginning to speak, he cut her off. "Oh crapping hell... lass, veer to port thirty-five up fifty - they're headed right for you!"

"That figures." Talwyn glanced over her shoulder, shouting to the robots as she changed course, "Cronk, man that turret, and for pity's sake, shoot where it counts! Zephyr, back him up!"

They blinked from their positions, having chosen sleep rather than suffer through Talwyn's emotional state. "Wha...? Why, a guy can't even sneak a li'l nap, with those dang Crageymites," Cronk moped as he unseated and made for the turret.

"Tell me about it," Zephyr agreed as he laced his digits into a foot lift. "Just like every war we been through with 'em."

"Yeah, a'course we _lived_ through all o' them..."

"_Confidence_, guys," she called over her shoulder, though to herself she added, "but... what can we do this time? It's a whole damned _fleet_." She noticed that Sasha had cut the transmission, and felt even more isolated and in danger. She would follow that geeky First Officer's advice and hide. But, if it came down to it, and her life was threatened, would Sasha sit still and do nothing?

She cringed in on herself as the Port Boss began calling urgently, "Mayday, Mayday! Any ships of the Polaris Confederation! This is Odum Port Authority Captain Shlufski! We are under attack from Cragmite forces! We need immediate assistance!" Hesitating for a moment for any sign of response, he continued more loudly, "Any vessels of the Intercluster Alliance... _anyone!_ We need assistance now, _or this world is lost!_"

He fell silent as an image appeared on his screen. He had the briefest hope that things had changed in the galaxy, that the appearance of the Solanan Heavy Cruiser meant the balance of power had shifted in their favor, but all hope was crushed at the expression on the man's face. "Captain Shlufski... I regret to inform you that... you're on your own. Make do as best you can. I'm sorry." Heaving a miserable sigh, the signal ended.

"So... ya won't even give your rank, or name?" the old robot muttered as he looked to the crimson skies of sunset, where the alien warships were bearing down on his sadly insignificant world. "Is there any hope left in this wretched universe?"

Commodore Shappley pounded his fist into the padded armrest of his command chair, fuming visibly as he struggled to contain his anger. "Damn it to black _Hell!_ I knew something like this would happen!"

"Do you think the Phoenix II is involved?" his First Officer asked leadingly.

The commander took a breath to calm himself, trying to think logically. "I don't know... how can we know anything in this fuster cluck of a situation? It has been unusually inactive on the Imperial side after that first news that the Cragmites had returned somehow. They may have acted anyway." He added to himself as he began typing up a report, 'Still, this is coming close on the heels of the Heavy Cruiser's appearance, and that coincidence is hard to discount.' As he typed up his report though, he continued to be vague about the Solanan warship, keeping its exact identity and nature a secret. 'Captain, you had _better_ be on the track of a solution, because I'm giving you enough rope to hang us all.'

* * *

"_You are on your possession. Produce action of your best container. I am pathetic._"

The Cragmite commander blubbered with flatulent laughter at the communication, and the mangled translation his system made of it as he squeezed a tension ball. "These soft creatures have lost all courage. I cannot believe such worms fought our people to a standstill more than once." Looking at the main screen, he bellowed out, "Observer! Tell me that this miserable stone is sending up _some_ kind of weak force to try and stop us!"

Scanning over his instruments, the creature replied, "No Captain, in fact, all vessels are landing or leaving... wait!"

The commander watched in growing irritation as his subordinate fiddled with his console. "_Well?_"

Looking up a few moments later, the officer confessed, "Sorry, I thought I saw something."

"You _thought_ you-!" The Captain hurled the tension ball into the alien's head. "Grow some better eyes, and don't get my hopes up for battle that won't come!"

As he slumped over his console, the stunned Cragmite failed to notice a brief signature of a starship's faint exhaust appear, along with the dark gray torpedo shape of its hull against the starfield as it drifted behind the curve of the far moon. "Well... there _is_ a small scout ship ahead, Commander," he offered in placation.

"Show me!" the Captain bellowed, and saw on the screen a small research vessel. Snorting out a laugh, he muttered, "Eh... maybe some mother will cry when they don't make it to port... why not."

Cronk watched the display of approaching vessels, muttering nervously, "Sure are a lot of 'em-" He ducked when he saw flares on the screen, and just then beams of energy flashed past, a few of them sparking off of the hull. "Here they come!"

"I kinda noticed - _shoot!_" Talwyn cried over her shoulder, activating her communicator, but at a loss as to what to say. She couldn't give away Sasha's whereabouts, and knew she couldn't count on Odum for squat. As much as she wanted Slab to save her, she prayed that he was at the other side of the world completely. Instead, by some miracle an Alliance ship would respond, as they actually had mustered up a presence during the last Cragmite War. "Mayday, mayday! This is the civilian research vessel Odyssey Beta! We're under attack from Cragmite forces!" She ducked instinctively as a few rounds rang off the hull and there was a loud bang from the rear. "_Please save us!_"

"_Talwyn!_" Sasha cried, leaping from her chair and shivering in fear. She knew the girl wouldn't cry out like that unless it was really dire. "Red Alert!" she exclaimed, then hesitated, her eyes locked uncertainly in Busby's.

He didn't have to say a word; his expression said it all. He still told her faintly, "Just... weigh the consequences."

"Think _carafully_, mademoiselle," Raoul added from a corner of the main screen as the lights flashed red and a siren briefly sounded.

"I can't let her die," Sasha choked out, thinking frantically for some course of action that wasn't a direct attack. "Launch Spook," she finally ordered. "Position him one radius over Odum's north pole." Wringing her hands, she added in a voice just above a whisper, "And please, _please_ hurry..."

"Aye aye, ma'am," Combat Officer Boil replied, launching the probe robot, the unit in line behind Scout. The probe employed all the latest tricks in sensor avoidance and subterfuge, and besides following the shadows of Odum's two moons, it gave off the signature of an innocuous cargo rocket. Knowing that the Phoenix would need reconnaissance of the Cragmite positions, it began pulsing data back to the ship at five second intervals.

Sasha blinked back tears as she tried to block out Talwyn's frantic pleas for help and focus on a plan of action. "Lola... lower that transmission volume, would you?" Then, gasping in pain, she clutched her stomach as a cramp stung through her belly. "Oh, crapping hell... it _would_ be that time of the month..."

The First Officer looked up as the feloid walked gingerly over to his side, her eyes pleading to him as she said, "Busby, help me save her."

He nodded to her, trying to sound reassuring. "We will... both of us." He took her hand and guided her to an empty seat beside him, as she seemed to be more than a little distressed. "I like your idea."

Sasha flashed him a smile, murmuring, "Nothing surprises you, does it."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, but I am a pretty good chess player," he told her with a lopsided smile of his own. "Now, to work something out quick..."

* * *

Slab fidgeted the whole time he was in front of the customer's house, a fairly well to do man by the looks of it, and throwing some kind of extravagant bash. He must have been a meticulous businessman because he insisted on inspecting every one of his thirteen boxes. "Uhh, listen," the Leonid said, trying to sound helpful rather than urgent, "that pizza's way better fresh 'n hot."

"I have a good oven," the man remarked tersely. "I want to make sure this order is _way right_."

"Maybe if ya wouldn't make such whacked out combos, things would go better," Slab grumbled under his breath. "Whoever heard of a cappuccino pizza?"

"I have discriminating guests," he told the feloid without looking up. "If you can't handle the orders, maybe I should look _elsewhere_ for my business."

"Uhh... no problem, sir, just... a li'l friendly word," he muttered. Despite his wish to get back to the spaceport, he was distracted by the sounds of the party going on inside, especially when a ravishing young woman curled a finger towards him invitingly with a look of raw desire. Leaning forward on the balls of his toes, he whispered, "Aww... I _gotta_ be dreamin' this..." But he was brought back to earth abruptly when he realized he was hearing Talwyn's voice coming over his ship's radio, sounding urgent. And then his stomach knotted when she screamed, "_Please save us!_"

The man looked up in surprise to see the youth jumping into his ship. "Hey, what... don't you want _your tip?_"

"Get it later!" Slab called to him as the canopy lowered and the engines spooled to life. "Not like you ever tip worth a crap anyhow..."

The man frowned as the young lady came to his side disappointedly. "Aww, he's _leaving?_" He began to chastise her when they were both blown inside, along with the pizzas, by the blast of the starspeeder's exhaust.

Trying to figure out how to open another communications channel, he was saved the trouble when his friend messaged him. "Slab, where you _been_, man? Somethin's goin' down hard and your girlfriend's in it deep!"

"Where is she!" he exclaimed, terrified by the sound of her voice on the previous channel.

"Space, straight up!" Crunch informed him. "Sounds like a damn invasion!"

The youth activated the spaceflight systems, spotting a ship coming towards Odum with a distress beacon on it. He gasped as behind it, he saw triangles indicating hostile ships, dozens of them. And they just kept coming. "Flamin' hell!" he cried, then gripping his controls to steady himself, he said, Okay, I'm on it! Form up!"

Well used to his friend's reckless behavior, Crunch asked tentatively, "Uhh... what're you gonna do about this?"

"I dunno!" he growled, "I'll figger somethin' out! Now go fast or go home!" Hitting the thrusters hard, he was crushed into his seat as the starfighter roared into the sky, blasting through the sound barrier and into the hypersonic within seconds. Screaming past a few ships as they fled to the remote safety of the planet below, the sky quickly went from blue to starlit black, and up ahead, there were flashes of light from the invaders as they unleashed cruel weapon fire on the girl he loved. Poking at the console, he said into the controls, "Talwyn, baby, hold on..._ just hold on! I'm comin'!_"

She couldn't believe her ears, choking back a cry of relief. "Slab! Oh you crazy..." She yelped as a blast spanked off of the roof above her, reminding her what he was heading into. "Idiot! _Get out of here!_"

"Make up your mind!" he laughed nervously, trying to sound brave, as his display filled with ships, and around him, he could see flashes of blaster fire. He braked hard, and still they were coming fast.

"Slab, please! Turn around!" Talwyn called to him. Her own demise was bad enough, but she couldn't bear the thought of that young punk dying. "You can't take on an entire invasion force by yourself!"

"He's not by himself," came another voice on the channel.

"Ohh, not _you too_," she groaned, unable to recall his name in the chaos of battle.

"'Fraid so," Crunch told her with a smile in his voice as he formed up off of Slab's wing.

"Thanks, pardner," he said to his friend before Talwyn could berate them further. "Okay, follow my lead, like ten seconds after me."

"Uhh-" Before Crunch could ask what exactly that meant, the other starspeeder roared away, lifting just over Talwyn's ship as it lumbered past, going much too slow for a ship trying to escape pursuit.

Talwyn watched the black racer sail over her, crying, "Slab, you idiot... _no!_" Gripping her controls in frustration, she shouted over her shoulder, "Cronk, watch your shooting!"

The old soldier wondered out loud as he watched the two black starfighters streaking past, "Didn't we just go through somethin' like this?"

Lining up with the Imperial Cruiser closest, he watched the weapon drop indicator, his thumb poised over a cargo release button, and when the indicator signaled the prime moment, he pressed it, crying, "Bombs away!"

"Bombs?" his friend asked, as the channel was still open. Then it occurred to him what that meant, and he cried, "Hey, Slab... _no, dude!_"

The Cragmites in the lead Cruiser were growing bored with their prey. "First, it goes slow, then, it won't even try to evade!" the pilot complained.

The gunner nodded, tapping the fire button idly, then looked excited as an idea struck him. "I know... let's ram her a bit!"

"No!" the pilot objected, stroking the dashboard fondly. "I just had this thing painted." Then all eyes in the cockpit looked up as a warning buzz signaled an incoming object. "By the sewers of Zordoom-!" the commander exclaimed as several disc shaped objects splattered against the front viewshield, coating it with a sticky red substance like blood, follwed by a large object which shattered the crystal shield entirely.

Slab began laughing in jubilation as he wheeled around. "That's what you get for attackin' my girl-!" he began, stopped as the Cragmite Cruisers began firing at him, and as Crunch cut in with a warning.

"Slab, hey! You can't be throwin' our orders away like that! And the ovens too? The boss'll kill us!"

"Dude, get a clue!" the feloid shouted back. "Do you really think anyone's gonna have time to complain about any o' that with a damn _invasion_ goin' down?"

Crunch shrugged back. "Uhh... good point."

"Okay, now are you gonna talk smack or help out!" Slab growled, yanking the nose around to target the next ship threatening the helpless girl.

"No, I'm in!" the youth grumbled, lining up on a Cruiser of his own, but beginning to shiver as blaster fire streaked fearfully close by. Word was passing to the other ships that a couple of fighters were daring to take them on in rather unorthodox fashion, and they began to focus on the two attackers. "Take this, you-!" he began, dropping an order with its accompanying heater, but was cut short as a bolt struck his nose. He screamed, sure that he was dead, and he nearly was as he caught sight of the approaching Cruiser, pulling away just in time to avoid a collision. Eying the nose where a red spot was quickly fading, he gasped, "Oh man... good thing we got that armor back on... it really works!"

Talwyn looked over her shoulder as the blaster fire stopped ringing against the hull, amazed that those two hoodlums actually managed to be pretty effective. But they weren't real fighter pilots, just kids her age, and she clenched in fear as she saw the formations of Cruisers drawn to them like wolves to rabbits. "Guys!" she called anxiously. "Don't mess with them! Just get out of there!"

"Not 'til yer safe, sweetheart!" Slab answered, causing both her and his friend to draw sharp breaths. "Couple more runs - we still got plenty o' pizza! Besides, when we quit... Odum's had it."

She blinked as a warning indicator buzzed, notifying her that she was entering the atmosphere much too fast, and she fired braking jets to slow down. "Slab, Odum's had it anyway! Look, I made it to the atmosphere! Just... _Slab? _Slab!" she called nervously, as the radio chatter died rather abruptly. But then she heaved a sigh of relief as bits of communication came through, as the ionized plasma caused by re-entry wrought havoc with the signal. "Damn it, I can't maser him... Slab!" she cried. "_Knock it off and head home!_"

"Uhh... doncha think she's safe enough?" Crunch asked nervously, looking over his shoulder at a trail of orange in the atmosphere where Talwyn was hopefully slowing for a landing.

"With all these bastards around? Not 'til I say so! Besides, if nobody else is gonna fight for our home, I will!" he called back. "Hey, whadya think Ratchet would do?"

"How the hell do I know!" the feloid snapped. "Besides, dude, get a clue here yourself! We're fightin' these guys _with friggin' fast food!_"

"Hey, we got ovens too," Slab reminded his friend as he dove on another Cruiser, straight for the cockpit.

"We got ovens too..." he chuckled mirthlessly, then gave a yelp as energy blasted into his ship's tail. Looking over his shoulder, he muttered worriedly, "Oh _crap_... Slab, I think we better _go!_"

"Whadya mean-?" his friend began, casting a look to the rear which had him gripping the controls tightly. "Hold on dude, I'm comin'!"

"I thought they said these worthless fools wouldn't put up any resistance!" a Cragmite said with a grin as he guided his Attacker through the formations of Cruisers. "Not only is there someone to fight, we get a chance to put the big boats in their place!" Lining up on the black shape of the starfighter in his display, he began firing.

"_Yeow!_" Slab exclaimed, veering off to avoid another salvo. "Great, now I got crap o' my own to deal with..." While the ship fire from the smaller vessels didn't seem to be as strong, they were more accurate. Turning to fly crossways to the formation of invaders, he hoped to user the onrushing Cruisers to break up his pursuers, though he would have to be _very_ careful, or he would end up wrecking into one himself. His voice tight with anxiety as he watched the alien vessels rush towards him, he shouted, "Jink 'n run, dude! I'll be there in a sec!"

Crunch swallowed fearfully, using all the tricks in his arsenal to avoid the Attackers trailing him, but though the Cragmite ships were larger, these seemed to be very skillful pilots and hung to his rear tenaciously. And while his armor protected the craft well, he had to remember that it was also heavier. "Ohh man," he whimpered, "this isn't a lotta fun..." For lack of a better idea, he dumped an order of pizza with its heater as he jerked the fighter's nose up to evade the bow of a Cruiser.

The leader just managed to avoid getting splattered head on, still suffering some of the mess as it smeared his right side, but two of the craft following weren't so lucky. Their viewshields coated with sauce and cheese, they flew their craft blindly into the side of the Cruiser, exploding in balls of flame and disabling the warship. "Damn you, mangy rodents... you're going to suffer for that!" the pilot growled as he pulled a wingover, firing a stream of energy across the feloid's craft, some of it missing and sparking off of angry teammate's ships.

The Commander was pumping his tension ball furiously as he bellowed, "Quit playing with those bugs and finish them! We have a world to squash!"

"You heard our master," the pilot growled, opening his throttle. "Let's finish this dung off!" The rest of his squad followed, spreading out to rain down blaster fire on the frantically weaving Leonid, disregarding the outraged messages hurled at them as they blasted across their own ships as well.

Trying not to sound afraid, he shouted into his communicator, "Slab... _I could really use a hand here!_" Thinking frantically, he was at a loss. "Don't got any guns... and if I fly straight to splash 'em, I just get shot... what the hell do I do!" He did the only thing he could think of; fly as close to the Cruisers as he could. Skimming over the surface of one, he yelped in terror as his wing clipped an antenna. "Slab," he whimpered, "you can't be gone, man... or I'll be right behind ya!"

"Who said I was goin' anywhere!" came a message over his speaker with a laugh. When his friend began to cry out with relief, the feloid cut him off. "Do a loop around that ship yer over!"

Crunch tried to glance around between blasts of energy, but couldn't make out his friend anywhere. Still, he'd never led him wrong... well, for the most part, but this was no time to second guess. "Okay," he called back. "Hope you know what you're doin'." While it felt good to have a course of action to follow, and someone watching his back, it was still disconcerting to be left to wonder what the details were, as usual. Flinching with a yelp as a bolt of energy scored across the canopy roof, he muttered to himself as he hugged the surface of the massive Heavy Cruiser as closely as he dared, the numerous ships of the invasion fleet wheeling around the sky. "Okay, dude... what am I lookin' for?" His heart sank as he began to complete one orbit and still no sign of a rescue, growling anxiously through grit teeth, "_Slaaab_..."

A Cragmite commander watched this play out below him in growing irritation. "Those fools are wasting time. We should blast that living rug ourselves!"

"But they would shoot back when we missed," objected his navigator, who looked up when a glow began to shine at them with ever increasing brightness. Then the crew cried out in alarm as a starfighter settled on their nose, its landing gear down, and as the engines began to roar, the exhaust blasting right into the viewshield. The Attackers pursuing him overshot and sailed past in formation, the leader looking back in shock to see what was happening, muttering "Ohhh, Blarg poop..."

"Go down, you friggin' barge!" Slab exclaimed as he pushed his speeder as hard as it would go. At first, the Cruiser refused to budge, but gradually, then at an ever greater rate, the ship began to pitch downward.

Crunch caught the sight of a shadow coming right towards him, and just managed to cry out in shock before instinctively hitting the thrusters with all they had. "Move, girl - _move!_'

Sasha looked to Busby nervously as Spook's surveillance revealed what was taking place in near real time. "Those idiots aren't running for it..." she sighed. "We have to tell them _now_."

Busby's lips drew tight as he whispered, watching the battle intently, "Yeah, I know." Not wasting time with etiquette, he reached across Lola's console, opening a channel. "Slab! Crunch!" he shouted. "Go hard to port right now!"

Slab looked up in surprise at the unknown voice. "Uhh... which way is that?"

Busby was ready to scream. "Do you see _the moon? That way!_"

"Oh, right-!" he began, then saw the reason for the warning, as trails of numerous missiles were coming from the planet below right for them, and he yelled, "_Oh CRAP!_"

Crunch looked up just in time to see the cataclysm about to erupt all around him, his own cry of terror joining with his friend's, when the Cruiser slammed into the warship and Attackers behind him. At the same time, the first missile exploded.

Sasha grabbed the First Officer's hand fiercely, her nails digging tenderly into his skin as she hissed, "Busby... _please_, tell me we didn't just kill them..."

It was even more painful to see her expression as he worked his hand into hers more comfortably, saying to her, "Hon - _Sasha_... I don't know, hold on and I'll see what Spook is sending us." The first glimpse wasn't encouraging though, as the area was a mess of flying debris and missile detonations.

* * *

A middle-aged man plopped into the sofa after a long five hour day at the office, and flipped on the threevee as he always did. His wife came into the living room, wiping her hands on a towel and making a face. "Are you watching Weather Net _again?_"

He began to retort that he most definitely was _not_ watching Weather Net when he noticed that on the screen was a thin capsule shaped robot hovering over an image of the planet. "Uhh... I'm not quite sure _what_ this is, Mabel."

The robot blinked in surprise when he saw that he was being watched, blurting out, "Good evening, planet, uhh... _Odum!_ Yes, Odum, and welcome to... your evening forecast. As you can see here..." Spook extended a pointer from his left arm and moved aside as a cloud of triangles advanced towards the sphere of the planet. "The capital city of Fruma is going to experience several waves of invading Cragmite Cruisers, along with the outlying areas of Selbin, Posser and Brebil."

"_Cragmite invasion?_" the couple exclaimed, gaping at each other, then bolted for the window, throwing it open and staring at the evening sky. Between spotty clouds and among the stars, other points of light were moving, lots of them. "Well," the wife muttered, "at least I got the dishes started..."

They both jumped back from the window as bolts of enemy fire struck the ground nearby, the energy causing the soil to explode into clouds of dirt.

* * *

Talwyn emerged from the ionosphere in the dusk of the planet's shadow, expecting to hear from the young racer punk as he called for her incessantly. But as she settled into the layer of cloud formations near the surface and headed for the port city of Fruma, her heart began to wither. Where was he? She scanned over the frequency bands, catching anxious chatter from hundreds of citizens and civil officials, but she could hear no sign of the brash young Leonid. As she made her way discreetly away from the spaceport towards outlying business areas, she returned to the channel he'd been on, calling his name haltingly. Still there was no answer. As she closed in on an old factory district, she was so upset that she could barely control her descent towards a gap between two buildings, tears blurring her vision as she touched down roughly. "Slab?" she blubbered. "_S-Slab?_ You just... c-can't be gone..." The two old warbots crept to her side cautiously, eying each other uncertainly as the girl fought back her tears. Zephyr grabbed his friend by the arm and nodded towards their seats, trying not to overhear as Talwyn snuffled noisily, trying not to cry. She decided they were still okay, they _were_, simply because they didn't seem the type to do anything truly heroic. "They may be stupid, but they're not... _that_ stupid..." she tried to convince herself as she cut the engines.

She choked back a squeal, jumping in her seat as the speaker crackled. "Slab?" she exclaimed, but there was nothing more for an uncomfortably long time. Then she heard another broken sound, then more, staccato and fragmented, but it sounded like a male's voice. Holding her breath, she leaned close, trying to fathom what it was. After struggling with the attempt to piece something intelligible together, it sounded like they were saying long, one syllable phrases. "Eee-ee-e-errr... aa-aaa-arr-r... uuuuu-u-uu..."

_It sounded like him!_ But what was he saying? She sounded it out, and then blurted excitedly, "Oh, 'where are you!'" Wiping her tears away, she cried, "Slab! I'm in an old manufacturing...! Oh, wait, he might not hear me any better." Shaking her head to clear it and trying to calm down, she said loudly into the communicator a long drawn out, "South... west... of... space... port... factory... warehou-!"

She jumped out of her seat, her boots scarcely touching the floorplates as she ran outside, sure that she had caught the sound of an approaching spacecraft. As she leaped over the steps though, all she could hear were the civil defense sirens howling mournfully in the distance, warning of the impending invasion. As Cronk and Zephyr came to her side, she groaned, "Damn it... I could have sworn I heard a ship..." She fell silent as the noise of some distant craft sounded just over the sirens, and then it rapidly grew louder. She looked up to the darkened sky excitedly, crying the feloid's name. Then just as quickly, it turned to fear as a Cragmite Cruiser roared overhead, blasting some nearby target, followed by three more. "Ohmygod... _ get back in the ship!_" she exclaimed, drawing her blaster, as much to bolster her confidence as anything. "Cronk, man the turret _but don't arm it!_ For all I know, it'll show up on their sensors."

Zephyr showed up a few moments later, lugging his blaster, explaining in his usual halting manner, "Y-you shouldn't be outside here by yourself, Miss Talwyn, what with those Craggy-ite monstrosities runnin' lose."

"You mean 'Craggy-_mites_,' Zephyr?" she asked with a thin smile, feeling better about Slab being alive.

"I-I-I can mispronounce their name any dang way I want to," he informed her half-indignantly.

She couldn't muster up any more good spirit, as the sounds of invasion reached her ears plainly. Off in the distance were ever more rumbles of incoming attack ships and deep reverberant booms of explosions. Life as they knew it was over for the people of Odum, and the awareness was heartbreaking. And even worse was worrying over the fate of Slab and his friend. He was okay, she had decided, until she learned otherwise, but _was_ he all right? What about the other one... Crunch? Was he even alive? She squeezed her pistol grip firmly, murmuring under her breath, "Fang... please, get these people help. This is just _wrong_. Stir something up against the Cragmites, won't you? And... _please_, bring Slab to me."

She didn't have time to complain about a lack of response, hugging the sheetmetal of the building and gripping her blaster tightly, as did Zephyr, and making sure it wasn't on stun. Another craft was approaching. "Please," Talwyn murmured over the growing roar, "_please_..."

She nearly screamed as the sleek black nose of a modified starfighter appeared around the edge of the building, and jumped out into the open, waving frantically and shouting at the top of her voice, "Over here! _Slab!_" It was clear that he saw her as the craft rotated on its hover jets, lowering itself towards ground level, though it ended up making about as elegant a landing as Talwyn had, tilting to the left and landing awkwardly. "Ohmygod," she gasped, holstering her pistol and dashing for the stricken craft. It was pretty badly damaged, and as the cockpit was obscured with smoke, it was impossible to see if he wasn't as injured. Yanking the canopy release, she shoved it open the faster, waving away smoke and undoing the straps holding the feloid in his seat. He didn't seem to be injured, so she grabbed his arm, almost throwing him out of the cockpit as the ship sputtered and popped from countless bits of shrapnel damage in its rear. She swatted at the smoke wafting from his suit in case it was burning as she exclaimed, "Slab! Are you all right? What happ-!" She stopped short as the Leonid removed his helmet, and she saw that it was Crunch, staring at him in disbelief. Then, realizing how she was behaving, she coughed out a laugh, trying not to sound disappointed. "H-hey! It's... good to see you made it back in one piece."

"You okay?" he asked, then began cursing under his breath as he slapped at his smoldering suit himself. "Sorry, it's just that... it was hell up there. And, Slab..." His voice trailed off as he looked into her eyes, at the crushed expression she bore, and he was almost afraid to speak. "You... hear from 'im?"

She forced to keep smiling, nodding her head as she replied a bit quietly, "Yeah, I... heard a broken message from him..."

The look on his face made her want to collapse. "Uhh... 'fraid that was me..."

She squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth as she managed to hold back tears. "It... doesn't matter, okay? We'll find him. He _has_ to be here somewhere, right?"

"Yeah... can't go anywhere else, right? _Oh sh - crap!_" he blurted out as a something popped in the cockpit and a light flared from within it.

As he jumped inside and began flailing at it, Talwyn shouted, "Use the fire extinguisher!"

"Uhh... kinda... left those out," he told her almost apologetically. "Extra weight..."

Groaning in exasperation, she tugged at Zephyr's arm as she ran for the Odyssey. "Come on! Cronk, grab an extinguisher! I swear..!"

As angry as she was at the foolishness of the youth, it was good to have something to distract her from the fear of Slab's fate as they sprayed the damaged systems down good with the fog of cold CO**2**. With the help of the much stronger robots, they were able to push the starspeeder into an adjoining nook between warehouses. Crunch gazed at it sadly, muttering, "Man... will she ever fly again?"

Talwyn bumped his arm lightly, trying to sound positive in the dismal situation. "Hey... you're a mechanic, right? You have to get her spaceworthy again if you're gonna do anything about these Cragmites."

From the city beyond came another distant boom, causing both of them to turn and look. The sky was streaked with trails from invading spacecraft as they wrought havoc on the essentially defenseless planet, and columns of smoke rose to the heavens from sporadic fires. Crunch sounded ready to cry as he moaned, "W...what're we s'posed to do! My ride don't have any guns, 'n if it did... it's only one ship!"

Talwyn grabbed his arm, fixing his eyes with hers. "Look, you can't give up, no matter what. This is your home, right? You _have_ to do whatever you can to protect it. Besides... Slab is out there somewhere. We have to find him."

The feloid gave her a thin lopsided smile. "You... sound a lot like 'im."

She smirked back to him, "I hope you mean that as a complement." She drew her pistol, undoing the safety with a sigh. "You have a weapon?"

He blinked at her incredulously. "A... a gun? _Me?_ Are you kiddin'? I'm just-"

"Cronk, go get a blaster," she interrupted. When the warbot began to object, she gave him a stern look, and he wandered off to the ship obediently but reluctantly, muttering to himself.

Crunch shuffled around nervously, afraid of being forced into the role of a mercenary, especially after what he'd just survived. "Uhh... you _sure_ about-?" he began, but was interrupted as Cronk returned, shoving the weapon at him.

"Look, Crunch... your world is in serious trouble," Talwyn reminded him. "There are a lot of scared people out there who need someone to help them. It's time for you to stand up for them, and your home."

"Just make _sure_ ya know which end does the shootin', kid," the robot warned him.

"Hey, I ain't totally stupid, ya old..." he started to say, then became caught up in the wonder of holding a powerful weapon for the first time.

"Okay now, act like you know what you're doing, and be-" He looked up in surprise as she pushed his arm down slowly. "_Careful_ with that thing. It's upgraded and _really_ deadly. Keep it aimed at the ground or up in the air, and _don't_ start shooting unless I do. Okay?" He nodded to her silently, and she continued, gripping her weapon as she looked to the city being blasted, "Now... come on, let's look for Slab, and see if anyone needs help."

He felt trapped in a fate he wanted nothing to do with as he followed the girl quietly, the two warbots resolutely bringing up the rear, and they made their way towards the war torn city. 'I ain't no soldier,' he fretted to himself. 'What the hell am I s'posed to do?' He wanted desperately to find out what happened to Slab. As crazy as he could be sometimes, his schemes usually worked out. But even if his friend had returned here, what chance did they have of finding him?

* * *

The Odum Planetary Council had been in session far too long to be arguing so heatedly over such a small tax windfall. Speaker Fundle banged his gavel on the podium to call the Council to order. "Lan' sakes, people! You all act like ya found an asteroid made o' Raritanium or somethin'! It's just a few million bolts!"

"So give it back to the people!" shouted one of the conservatives.

The saurian returned with a dim look. "I'm sure each household on Odum would love to tell us what to do with one whole bolt of tax rebate."

As the Council erupted into a shouting match once more, an assistant came up and tugged on Fundle's sleeve. He whipped around, exclaiming, "_What!_"

As the clerk looked up from where he'd fallen from shock, he replied, "Port Captain Shlufski wants to speak with you. Uh, Mister Speaker. Sir."

The Council head growled at the underling, "Oh, he prob'ly wants a budget increase. Doesn't he make enough takin' bribes? Tell 'im I'm busy!"

Before the assistant could respond, the image of the Port Boss came up on the screen overlooking the Council. "It figures, the lot of you old fossils would be too busy haggling over a few bolts to notice _yer world is being invaded!_"

"What are you talkin'-!" Fundle began hotly as the furor died down from the news, and as the meaning hit them, they backpedaled in fear. Facing the screen nervously, he whimpered, "You mean... one o' those new rock bands, don'cha?"

The robot had no time to respond as the domed roof suddenly shattered above them, pelting the Council members with debris. Fundle shouted angrily as he picked himself up, "Damn rockers! Can't a one o' them lean how to drive...?" His voice trailed to silence, his throat clenching as he spotted the nose of an Imperial Cragmite Cruiser sliding from the hole it had made as it rammed the building, and muttered fearfully, "Ohhh, _crapping hell_..."

The Council people cried out in alarm and the Speaker flinched back as the screen above him filled with the hideous image of a slug-like being, threatening them with the most dreadful noises they had ever heard. It was translated roughly:

"Infestation of worthless planet. I am fearless Commander _Haghharrer!_ I have the weary pleasure of reporting at you that your dustball is hereby conquered. _Because you can't even bother to resist like little girls that you are except to fire a handful of missiles!_"

Fundle was too afraid to make any kind of lucid response for a moment, and replied in the only way he knew how. "B-b-but... we have a non-agression treaty! W-we gave you-"

"_-Hurled at your extensiveness the very most wealth we could sweep from under our dingy rugs in tribute! We have done no little thing to warrant you slapping us all over as such! We have no such weapons to even wave at you limply!_" Which wasn't entirely true: Odum did have a token defense system, they just couldn't afford to use it.

The Commander roared with bulbous laughter from the poorly translated protest, as did his crew. "Listen to this scrawny hen cluck with fear! It's almost worth not seeing anything of resistance, other than those two fools throwing food at us!"

Fundle settled his bifocals on his nose in perplexion at that last bit. "Throwing... _food at them?_"

"_So you say to us!_" bellowed the Cragmite. "But, let it not be said that I am without a portion of mercy and gratitude for your... overwhelming generosity." Looking into a screen at his side, the Commander said with a grin, "Lieutenant Klernsh... reveal to the wretched bureaucrats our... gratitude."

The pilot of the Cruiser chuckled with anticipation. "As you command, my lord."

"Err... what do ya think he means by that?" Fundle murmured to no one in particular.

"I think it means-" began the assistant, when the building quaked from thunderous blasts, sending the two of them to the floor. "_That_."

"I gotta get outta here!" Fundle exclaimed, jumping to his feet, as did the crowd of bureaucrats as they ran for their lives. But realizing it might be his last moments as Speaker, he grabbed the gavel and rapped it on the podium, shouting, "Session adjourned!"

He stopped himself before fleeing with the others, and turned in the other direction. Praying that he had a few minutes before the building collapsed, he ran to his office and frantically poked at the keypad on his safe until it finally opened. Throwing stock certificates and other valuables into a briefcase, he cringed as the fire from the Imperial Cruiser blasted the building in a steady drumbeat of doom, measuring out the life of the old building with each attack, and raining down debris all around him. "Oh, pooping black _hell!_" he cried as an explosion outside his chambers blew his doors open, then another stunned him as it blasted him from his feet. He sailed through the window overlooking the formerly manicured grounds of the Planetary Council building, bouncing roughly down it's tiered sides until he finally landed face first in the lawn, his briefcase thudding beside him. He looked up to see the last of the people running past him and off into the distance, calling feebly, "Hey, wait... _did you forget who authorized your last raise?_" Lifting himself gingerly to his knees, he whimpered, "All those mementos... and the first gear I ever made was in that office." He cringed as a massive explosion caused the Council building to collapse, gasping in shock as a brass gear smacked him in the back of the head, driving his face into the turf once more.

He was still blinking back stars as someone pulled him up roughly and threw him over their shoulder. A blast from the Imperial Cruiser still hovering overhead brought his mind sharply back into focus, and he began to say, "Thanks, you young-" But he stopped short when he spotted his open briefcase, and the valuable documents scattered around it. "W-wait! My retirement!"

"Hey, you wanna retire for good?" the other growled. "We gotta _go!_"

Before Fundle could utter a word of outrage, his eyes popped open as his briefcase disintegrated in a beam of energy, and the streaks of blaster fire began searing the ground after them, growing terribly close. "I see what you mean - _faster! Faster!_"

* * *

Commander Haghharrer watched the display of the assault's progress a few moments more before ordering it turned off in disgust. "I wager those slackers want a commendation or something for this pathetic excuse for an invasion. It's like stepping on worms, and even _more boring!_ Raise the port command for this wimpy dirtball, so I can land and officially ruin the lives of these impotent people forever."

The Port Boss was rummaging around in a wall locker he kept secured, because it held an old memento he hadn't so much as looked at for many years. Drawing out the relic of his past, he murmured as explosions rumbled not far away, stroking over the barrel, "Well... it's been an age since we saw any action, hasn't it? Figures, it would end up like this. But by my Designer, at least one o' these monsters is gonna regret the day they pulled this crap."

He looked up as his console came to life with a unique message he knew was soon to come. A voice growled over the speakers, "Where are you, you slackard! Or are you as worthless as every other little girl on this dustspeck? Hey! _I'm ranting at you!_"

The old robot took his time sauntering over to the console, giving an inner smile at the furious expression on the Cragmite's face at being ignored. "Sorry, I had business to tend to. Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"_Your business is finished!_" the alien bellowed at him from the display, seemingly about to burst, as swollen as it was. "I am Commander Haghharrer!"

"How do you spell that?" Shlufski asked with infuriating charm. "For the record."

He tried not to laugh as a tension ball the Cragmite had been squeezing popped in his fist, squirting him with syrupy fluid. When the Commander finally became coherent, he growled, "I am delivering notice that _your world is hereby taken from you!_ And this-!" He held up the ruptured skin of the ball. "-Is going to be _you, when I am finished having my way with you!_ Now provide my ships with the proper landing path to your port, _or your people will suffer even MOAR!_"

That last syllable was painful to hear, not just from the volume, but the threat the Port Boss knew was all too real. "Seems I pushed the old slug a bit too far," he muttered under his breath, then said more loudly to him, unable to conceal the defeat in his voice, "All right, you've made your point. I'm sending up the landing corridor now." He initiated the computation which came up on another display promptly, coordinating the landing for the multitude of spaceships still above the planet so they would land without incident. But before he sent the data, he made a few alterations to it, overriding the warnings the system made to him. "There ya go. No need to be so grouchy about it. I just want to get along." The Cragmite raised one of his digits angrily in an ancient gesture of universal disdain before the screen went dark. The robot growled to himself, "The feeling is _mutual_, Commander, I assure you. And if luck of any kind is on my side, you won't be arriving any time soon... if at all."

After checking over the data for any tricks, the Commander ordered the fleet to proceed to the planet to secure it. "And don't blow up any more pretty buildings! I want one for myself!" he shouted, lapping up the last of the oily fluid from the tension ball. "And restaurants... I want a meal when I arrive. I just hope the food is worth gorging down."

The ships began lining up as they followed the Port Boss' instructions, forming a sort of flattened cone as they merged into a column of vessels, entering the atmosphere and roaring their way to the smoke filled skies over Fruma. The pilots wondered why they were taking such a low approach, but didn't mind as the afterglow of sunset and light of the nearby moon lit up the sea and islands, making for a lovely view. They chattered among themselves of what towns and villages they would be choosing to own, and hoping some of the people would put up at least token resistance so they could retaliate. The chain of islands leading to the port city were particularly striking, lit by a few houses which still had their lights on, as was one peak which glowed from within.

Shlufski watched the display nervously as the column of invaders flew over the volcano they referred to as 'Old Reliable,' as the eruptions from the magma gushing mountain occurred like clockwork. Unbeknownst to all but a chosen few, the eruptions were instigated by a massive pump Reggie Fundle had installed to attract tourists, and the old Port Boss had managed to finagle a manual control to it. When it seemed that the main body of the fleet was within striking range, centered around the Command ship, he pressed the pump activation button. "Come on, Old Reliable," he muttered, "Odum needs all the help it can get."

Commander Haghharrer looked over the landscape of the planet as his vessel came low over the surface, marveling at how even the most worthless of worlds still had beauty which could be desecrated. And then he rose in his seat as a glow began to grow brighter under the ship. "What is that? Put it on the main display!" he ordered. When he saw what it was, he nearly choked, waving towards the roof as his crew looked to him questioningly.

The Port Boss began to fidget anxiously as the volcano sat there, almost dormant. He pressed the button again, shouting, "Come on, you oversized barbecue! They're nearly past!" His digital heart sank as he saw the Command ship begin to rise in altitude, just as the volcano erupted late, spewing lava over the trailing support ships. "Just like a monument to a damn politician," he grumbled, heading for the locker. "Well, there's gonna be hell to pay now, no doubt about that..."

The Commander pounded open the supply locker for another tension ball as the shouts and cries from shaken pilots sounded over the speakers. "I swear that I am _personally_ going to pull that hell cursed robot to pieces with my bare-!" He looked out the forward viewshield in dismay, wondering what was going wrong _now_. And when the sight finally made sense to him, he roared furiously as he burst this tension ball in his fist as well.

The lead ship slowed to a stop a few hundred cubits from the spaceport, then the pilot looked over his shoulder as a massive crash came from the rear, then another. As the crew looked behind them, their eyes bugged open as they saw ship after ship trying to grind its way into their spot. "Hey!" the pilot shouted into the communicator. "Back off! We're supposed to hold here!"

"The hell you are!" exclaimed the angry pilot to his rear. "_We_ are!"

"The faq you say!" cried another. "That's _our spot!_"

"Shove off you!"

"Shove _this!_"

Commander Haghharrer could contain himself no longer, scarcely able to shout intelligible commands. "_Land this ship if you have to go through them all to do it! NAOW!_" His crew shriveled into their seats, having never seen their Commander so angry, shouting back their obedience, knowing they had better act on his command literally.

The pilots in the growing clump of Attackers and Cruisers looked to their rear with a start as a loud hornblast sounded, and the next thing they knew, the Command ship plowed right through the mass of starcraft, sending their ships plunging to the port waters below. Half a dozen unlucky vessels at the Spaceport were crushed under the bulk of the Cragmite vessel as it came down hard. The crew looked to each other worriedly, as the Commander liked to have silky smooth landings. "Uhh... apologies Commander-"

"_Shut up and follow me!_" he yelled at them as he extricated himself from his seat and struggled to fight his bulk through the otherwise spacious passageway to the exit.

The old robot looked up at the sound of the Command ship slamming roughly to the landing pad he had tended so dutifully for many decades, making one last connection and hurrying into position. "Well, this is it, my last stand as Port Boss, and perhaps the last moments of my existence. But I'll be damned if I'm gonna let these bastards walk all over us without a fight. Even if I'm the only-!" He gaped in horror as a very large claw tore through the front door of his office, watching in stunned disbelief as the walls and roof were torn open by immense taloned hands. Through the gap, a hideous face thrust itself forward, the thing's mouth seemingly rowed with fangs. He blinked stupidly as it rocked the small chamber with a deafening roar.

"Oh _holy space_-" he gasped, then remembered his trap. Stomping on a footswitch, a pair of charges fired shrapnel upward, piercing its face. He then fired a spear gun, a weapon which was intended to deal with any stray sea monsters which refused to be steered away from the port. He was gratified to see the shaft pierce the Cragmite in the throat and drive it back, chuckling in disbelief. "Well... that went better than expected-" he began in gloat, but stopped abruptly as the monster shoved itself forward again, struggling to force its way through the broken walls into the Port Boss' refuge as it grabbed the spear dangling from its jaw. He reached for his blaster rifle with a curse, but shuddered as something struck him hard, driving itself through his abdomen. He was badly damaged, and in a fashion was in agony as he fell back, stray currents going all wrong as his systems began to falter, but he was still conscious enough to see that he was pierced through by his own spear. "Ohh... the irony..." he muttered brokenly.

He blinked in shock as the Cragmite seized him in one hand and shook him, while with the other, jammed a device of some kind into the wall. As he began to growl and blubber in the repulsive Cragmite dialect, the gizmo emitted something intelligible. "You bastard... that hurt! About time! At least _one_ of you has some fight inside!"

Catching his mental breath as he fought to get his systems to route around at least some of the damage, the robot muttered, "Well... it's always nice to make an impression-"

He was reminded how fearfully strong the being was as it slammed him into the wall with his one wounded arm. "Yes, impressed I am! You have been a lot of trouble to us! Taking down more ships than you have a right to! Making fools of us with your twisted instructions! I guess you fired those missiles at us too!" He puzzled over that for a moment, sure that Fundle couldn't tolerate the expense of wasting defenses with no chance of victory, when he remembered the Phoenix. He had no chance to dwell on this bit of knowledge as the Cragmite jarred him roughly back to reality. "I am going to return the honor of your little victories by doing many bad, hateful things to you, before I finally _kill you!_"

Shlufski withered inside at the knowledge he had of the cruelty of this race, how even robots wished to end their existence rather than endure another moment of torture at their hands. He collected himself around a small will to resist, to not give Haghharrer the satisfaction of seeing weakness, chuckling, and smiling at the incredulous look on the being's face. "You imbecile... robots cannot die," he half lied, for robots hated to expire, much like any living thing.

He cried out in fear as the Cragmite hammered his impotent body against the wall, bellowing with each impact, "Then! You! Will! Be! The! _First!_" He threw the dazed robot to the floor for emphasis, and seeing the blaster rifle lying there, made a point to stomp on it before he left.

He couldn't see because the Cragmite was dragging him by the head, but he knew what was going on. 'He's taking me back to some secluded place, full of those wretched monsters, where he can do those _bad_, _hateful things_, until he finally grows bored of it and makes an end of me.' In some respects he envied the living, because they could find relief in their own way, by going insane, or dieing of shock. So many ways that the organics were better than them, and even in their weakness, yet another advantage. He wondered what it must be like to cease to be, and wanted to cry badly. He could probably terminate himself, in fact it would be easier with so much damage, but there was still a slender, tenuous thread of hope he clung to.

There was a Solanan warship nearby, a big one. In some way he couldn't fathom, at least one other galaxy was involved in this, and if the Cragmites didn't know, there was yet a chance the tables could turn. Still, with each bump to remind him of his predicament as the alien Commander dragged him so cruelly over the rubble of his world, that line between hope and despair drew unmercifully thin.

* * *

"Slab?" the girl practically wept over the speakers. "_S-Slab?_ You just... c-can't be gone..."

Sasha squeezed her eyes shut and grit her teeth, close to tears herself as she stammered, "L-Lola... cut the audio, please... but keep monitoring that transmission." Wiping her cheek reflexively, she finished with a sigh, "Can this mess get any worse?" Her tummy knotted as she realized she was tempting fate, or was it just from anxiety? She mentally cursed her womanhood as she struggled with an upset stomach. 'Of all the damn times for my period to kick in, _it had to be now!_'

She felt mixed emotions as the First Officer came to her side to reassure her. "Hey... we did all we could, considering the situation. It couldn't have been much different-"

"Not the conversation I want to have right now, Busby," she told him faintly, facing away. She felt angry at him and wanted to scream for a moment. Logically, he was right, but it only made her feel worse at being trapped in a situation where she had to make the most horrible of choices. Choices that got people killed. As he looked down sadly, she wilted, knowing it wasn't fair to take it out on him. She began awkwardly, "Busby... sorry, it's just... hard, to sit here and let a world get conquered by those monsters, when I could stop it. I just... want to die." She cringed as pain and sympathy welled up in his expression, thinking she would have to watch herself and her mouth closely over the next few days, and had to deal with _it_ right then. "I didn't mean that, sorry. Listen, I... have to take care of some business."

As she rose to leave the bridge for the sanctuary of a ladies room, he began to follow like a dutiful puppy. Her eyes popped open in disbelief, wondering how clueless he really was. Pointing at the Command chair, she snapped, "Where do you think you're going, mister! We're under red alert, in a state of war in enemy space. A command officer has to be on the bridge at _all_ times. _Read me?_"

That caused him to jerk to a stop and he snapped to attention. "Uh, sorry ma'am, I... wasn't thinking-"

"No, you weren't," she interrupted, then eased up when she saw that she had made her point clear. "I need you... this _ship_, Odum... _all_ of us, are relying on you to give the best possible advice to get us out of this mess in one piece. So, focus on your _job_, okay?" When he gave his affirmation, she returned with a thin smile. "Hopefully in a few days, things will be different."

_I need you_... those words were ringing in his heart as he watched her march briskly towards the exit, so taken with his own desires that he almost forgot ships etiquette, blurting out, "_Cap'n's leav'n th' bridge!_" along with Helmut. Feeling dumb, he muttered to himself, "Focus, _focus_," as he took the seat, catching Miss Chatterly clearing her throat a bit too obviously. He was surprised to see her looking back to her console quickly, wondering if he was missing something. Then a thought struck him as Sasha's parting sentence came to mind. _In a few days, things will be different_. "Ohhh, jeepers..." he whispered to himself, and just in case, made a point to read up on the life cycles of the adult Cazar female, and any deadly consequences of them.

Sasha planted her hands on the sink counter in the women's room just down the hall, almost panting as she struggled under a storm of emotions. It wasn't a relief to leave the bridge, it was almost a panic attack. Worry over Talwyn's fate, anguish over the demise of the two pilots who's only sin was trying to save the girl's life, the guilt of doing nothing while the people of Odum suffered a brutal Cragmite invasion... it was all becoming too much to bear. "_Stop it!_" she ordered herself as she fished a bottle of capsules from her leg pouch, as if it would make any difference. "For pity's sake, please work fast," she muttered as she shook a tablet out into quivering hands. It clattered to the counter along with the bottle a moment later, spilling some pills as she threw herself down in front of a toilet on hands and knees, and emptied her stomach.

She blinked in shock as someone lay along her back, and it could only be one person. She felt confused, hurt, outraged, that the man would throw away all the trust and confidence they had built up over the weeks together, all the silly awkward gentlemanly traits that endeared her to him, and seize that opportunity to take advantage of her. Especially when she was helpless and sickened, and wanted nothing less in this miserable time. "Busby!" she spat out angrily. "What the _hell_ do you think you're-!"

But suddenly she froze, chilled to the bone as a dreadful stink burned her nose, and cold, hard, spidery fingers closed around her throat, beginning to crush it in a murderous grip. Over the roar of terror in her ears, a cruel, raspy voice came to her. "I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else... a _lover_, perhaps? I wonder what he'll think when they find you... after I'm done having my fun with you!"

The agony of having her life squeezed from her was made even worse, realizing that he was just a few dozen cubits away, and didn't know. Wild notions of regret came to her, of things that would never be. She would never tell him of her true feelings, would never know how it felt to be cradled in his arms intimately, would never feel anything, ever again. 'Busby!' she shrieked in her mind as she clawed hopelessly at those deadly, metallic fingers clasped around her throat. "Busby... _please save me!_"

And then when she thought it couldn't be any worse, the monster said to her accusingly, "Why... I thought you loved _Ratchet_."

A cry strangled in her throat as the world spun around her wildly, and she found herself sitting up, blinking and shivering in terror and confusion. "What the _fu_-" she began, clasping her hand over her mouth before the obscenity could slip out. The world quickly came into focus, and she saw that she was on the bridge, at her seat. A dream... just a stupid _dream?_ Busby was eying her, and the sight of him made her heart flutter as he asked in concern, "Are you okay? Uh... Captain?"

_I thought you loved Ratchet_.

She flinched as the accusation nearly sounded audible, waving him off feebly. "I'm... fine, just... tired, that's all." That was almost a lie; she felt downright exhausted. She had gone to the ladies room, she had thrown up, cleaned up and taken her pill, and as she brushed her fingers over her tummy lightly, she did feel better. But in her heart, she felt torn in two. 'What the hell was _that_ all about!' she wondered as she gazed forlornly at Busby. 'Guilt? Tension about this insane mess as I struggle with...?'

_Feelings... crazy, mixed up feelings._

She had always thought that girls who let their passions get the best of them were just stupid. Even though her emotions would be taking her on an exasperating rollercoaster for a couple of days or so, she had enough sense to realize that she was just as stupid as the next girl.

She had to admit that she did love this man, this odd, sometimes infuriating, but always endearing man. And... she couldn't. She had no business having feelings for a subordinate. Not many things were more forbidden in the Navy, and nothing was more scandalous, and could be more disruptive to a crew. And nothing was worse than being in love with two men. The warning she gave Busby came to mind, to focus on her job, and she knew dwelling on this would only make it worse.

'I _have_ to get more rest,' she told herself, making a point to speak with the Ship's Doctor about some sleeping pills. With any luck, and some rest, and a measure of peace, her feelings might sort themselves out. Unfortunately, she didn't believe that for a moment, and at the thought of having to let either of them go, her eyes blurred with tears. '_Stop_ it!' she told herself angrily. 'You're a ship's Captain, and you can't get caught up in romantic nonsense. Especially not now.'

She forced herself to worry over Talwyn's fate, not that she needed much urging, and wondered silently, 'Just what in hell are you going through?'

* * *

She hadn't known such fear in all her life. Not just for her own safety, but for the people of this poor ruined world as Cragmite ships rained down terror from the skies. She was as devastated as the people she passed on the streets as they ran for the relative safety and calm of the outer suburbs of the city. Most places had decorations up as they prepared for Millennium Day, as poorer planets like Odum needed the celebration to brighten a squalid, difficult existence. Now, it was reduced to one more bit of pain and regret of a live that had been brought to a crashing ruin. She had given up asking if anyone had seen Slab, as all the terrified refugees could think of was fleeing the besieged city with whatever they could carry. Besides, the chance that any stray person knew a punk delivery boy was almost nil.

Crunch had come to his senses and urged them to see if his parents were all right. Talwyn had readily agreed, especially when he made known that Slab's family was in the same neighborhood. "It's kind of a rough 'hood," he warned them as he and Talwyn peered around the corner of a darkened building down a street lined with ramshackle homes. They drew back as a troop of Cragmites appeared and went tromping towards them, laughing in the repulsive manner typical of their race and shooting buildings at random for the sheer hell of it.

"I'd say it just got rougher," Cronk remarked as he peeked around the pair he was safeguarding.

The Cragmites stopped and bellowed at the darkened homes, obviously daring anyone to come out and face them, and when nothing came of it, one shot open the windows of the house before him out of spite. Crunch finally came to life, and Talwyn stopped him before he jumped out in the open. Trying to pull away from her, he growled, "She's just an old woman! They don't care who they kill... it's not right!"

"Crunch, _wait!_" she hissed. "We have to be careful. We don't have an army... yet-" She stopped short, pushing everyone back as the group of invaders stormed past them seeking more interesting targets to vandalize. When they were a safe distance off, she gave the feloid a thin smile. "But it's good to see that you care now."

He looked down at the blaster in his hand, blinking thoughtfully. "Yeah... guess I do."

"But listen," she cautioned him. "We can't let them know that there are resistors with guns on the loose. If they think everyone is just running scared, their guard will be down, and we need every advantage we can get right now."

He nodded to her as things began to click into place, of numerous scenes he'd watched in action holovids such as the Secret Agent Clank series, which began to make more sense now that he was in a similar fix himself. "Okay, I gotcha."

She flashed him a wider smile, saying, "I think your parents would be proud of you. Now, let's see about that old woman."

Beginning to grin himself at the thought of being worth something to someone, he led the way to the front porch and knocked on the door, sharing nervous looks as there was no sound from within. "Uhh... hey, Miss Carbuncle?" Talwyn shared a bemused smirk with the two warbots as the feloid climbed into the shattered window. "Are you-?"

Talwyn gasped in alarm as there was a loud blast inside, and Crunch was thrown back into the yard. Through the window, they heard an angry cackle. "Dad blasted teenagers! Shootin' out my winders! I'll show ya!"

Falling to his side as he struggled to get up, Talwyn exclaimed, "Crunch! Are you hurt?"

"_Run!_" he exclaimed as another blast struck the turf beside them, and they didn't need any further urging to make a hasty retreat. When they were sufficiently far away, he panted, swiping some kind of crystals from his flight suit, "I have a feelin' she's just fine."

"And just what the heck was _that?_" she asked of the rather explosive greeting given them.

"Uhh... rock salt," he replied, as if he'd experienced the old woman's wrath before, and Talwyn gave a much needed laugh.

"I see what you mean about this being a 'rough neighborhood,'" she chided him, patting his helmet, then grew a bit somber. "Now, let's check on your parents, and see if, uhm... Slab is around."

He didn't like her expression and looked away, mumbling, "Yeah, good idea... if he made it back - _I mean_, we'll find 'im. I'm sure of it." He dashed off down the sidewalk as if running from his own fears. She heaved a sigh, watching him go for a moment as she struggled with her own doubt and anguish, then visibly shook it off and followed after.

"It's a good thing we got a full charge in," Cronk remarked as they clopped after the others. "Looks like they're gonna give us a workout."

"I-if this goes on much longer, might have to get a re-charge at that, ol' buddy," Zephyr chimed in. "These batteries ain't gettin' any younger."

Talwyn caught up with Crunch as he cut through several yards, making a beeline for a decent enough house, though it suffered the Cragmite's abuse as well, the front window shattered. "Oh man," he moaned, then burst through the front door to the unlit dwelling, shouting, "Mom! Dad! _Where are you!_"

It was hard to listen to the fear in the young racer's voice as she followed him inside, unable to shake the twisted feeling of a home full of memories and experiences of a family life, and how that was all ruined by the invasion, any kind of future for them in doubt. Then she noticed a sheet of paper on a table, with a message scribbled on it in haste. "Hey, Crunch? Look at this!" As he tore back into the living room, she held it out with a smirk, saying teasingly, "Or should I say... _Clarence?_"

As his eyes bugged open in shock and he grabbed the paper irritably, the two warbots looked to each other, crying, "Clarence?" and hacking out with laughter.

"Okay guys, ease up," she ordered, as she felt sorry for the young feloid. He really didn't need any extra grief. As he read the note, apparently more than once, it seemed it made as much sense to him as it did her.

_Clarence, went over, you know, B's._

_Get here quick, don't mess around!_

_Be safe son, love you._

She edged over to the frowning youth, asking, "What does that mean? You act like _you_ don't even know."

"Oh, uh..." he began, looking up with a start. "Sorta. I mean, my dad... he's got this bad habit of usin' inside puns 'n things. This time though... he might'a been worried one o' those monsters get hold o' this 'n track us down." He added quietly, "This time, I don't blame 'im."

"But, you _do_ have some idea, right?"

"Well, yeah," he replied with a nod. "I'm just not sure if he means someplace _he_ would go, or where I would." He folded the page and stuffed it in a pocket, heading for the door, saying resignedly, "Well, let's get this overwith."

She wondered at his tone of voice, asking as he shut the front door, "So... where is this?"

"Slab's dad," he replied with a shrug as he led the way down the street at an angle across it, watching for signs of Cragmites. "Our dads go way back to when they were boarders."

"I should've known..." she laughed. "Your dad was a _boarder?_ So when did they jump from hover boards to racing spacers? And how could they afford 'em?"

"Well..." he began hesitantly, "they kinda... stole 'em. It's... a long story."

"I'm sure it is," she giggled, then stopped herself. "Wait, wait... and his dad doesn't approve of _you?_"

"Uhm... it's kind of, uhh... complicated," he muttered as he came to a dark house, and like half the homes along this street, it had damage from the rampaging Cragmites. The door sprang open and everyone flinched in shock as a large hand seized Crunch by the throat, the other grabbed hard around his arm. He waved feebly, choking out, "Hey... Mister Bee."

"Where _is he!_" a very tall Leonid bellowed.

"One 'b' down," Talwyn muttered as she holstered her blaster, and came forward to try and reason with the huge feloid, as it looked like Crunch couldn't breathe. Even though he seemed like a large ruffian, he also had the demeanor and precise speech of a learned man, the last thing she expected of Slab's father.

She was further surprised to see a copper furred woman come forward, gasping out hoarsely, "Brock," as she tried to pull the male away from the suffering youth. The word Volaris came to her and seemed to fit the race of the fox-like woman, given how far away the native galaxy of the Leonidas was from Polaris. Did that mean Slab was adopted, or was something else involved?

Finally, they managed to convince 'Brock' to let the poor racer go, and Talwyn had to catch him as he fell backward, gasping for breath. "Th... thanks, Felicia," he gasped raggedly as he removed his helmet. Talwyn helped him to his feet, her mind swimming with questions she wished she had time to ask as she plucked his dropped pistol from a row of flowers.

"_Well?_" Brock demanded loudly, then looked to the vixen as she tugged on his arm. She didn't say anything but he seemed to understand, fixing them all in his gaze for half a moment. "Come inside," he told them in a way that was clearly an order, and Talwyn bristled at the thought that this was an abusive man as the others went sheepishly indoors, noting an obvious choker wide enough to cover the girl's throat. If he had done anything to injure the woman, she would make this night something for him to remember forever.

"Sling those weapons!" he shouted at the two robots as he adjusted a dim light from the ceiling, just enough to make things clearly visible, and they saw that he had a weapon half trained on them. Seeing the pistol in Talwyn's hand, he added tersely, "You too, young woman."

She stared back coldly, deciding she didn't like this man one bit. "This is a spare, sorry. But... I'll put it down." She lay it on a nearby table, not taking her gaze from his own, but noticing the two warbots watching her uncertainly from the corner of her eye. "Do it, guys." They looked to each other as if for one to go first as they complied.

This caught the male's attention and he asked in that same grating, demanding tone, "A young girl running around during an invasion brandishing weapons with two warbots? Most unusual. Who_ are _you?"

"Talwyn Apogee," she replied, still staring back frigidly, her tail weaving to and fro in evidence of her tension.

His eyes narrowed and he asked, "The daughter of Maxwell Apogee?"

"He's my dad," she replied in a voice with a trace of spite. Looking to the vixen, she asked pointedly before he could say anything further, "What's the matter with your voice? Have a cold?"

At first her blood boiled as the woman looked away meekly, but her anger faded as the man took a step in front of the vixen, saying in a slightly nicer but still direct manner, "Young Apogee, that is none of your concern." She was further confused when the vulpoid edged against his side and he draped an arm around her as if in protection.

She knew that some abusive relationships could have strange attachments resembling affection, but this didn't seem like that at all, and she frowned in bewilderment. "Uhh... look, I don't mean to pry, I'm just concerned. Maybe I can help."

"You cannot help," he snapped. "Especially not under these conditions."

She looked down in perplexion, wishing she could ferret out the truth without being rude. "I'm sorry, I just... have to help people. It's who I am. Is something wrong?"

When he seemed unwilling to say anything, Crunch offered gently, "She's kinda... special..." He fell silent as Brock stared him down.

She felt lost as to what to say next. "Listen, maybe I should just-"

"I was a slave," the vixen rasped, rubbing her throat tenderly.

As Talwyn gasped in shock, the feloid looked to the woman in surprise, saying to her, "Felicia, there was no need to-"

The vixen put up her hand, whispering, "The Apogees are good people, but she was misjudging you. I wanted her to understand."

Talwyn shivered in humiliation, wishing she could vanish from sight somehow. When Brock noticed her state, he said to her in that precise, polished accent, "So, now you know. Let me explain. I entered a race in my galaxy, when I saw her with the ones sponsoring the competition. She was being abused. I found out that the wife of her... _owner_ injured her throat because she was jealous of her voice, so I took her." They gazed into each other's eyes as he continued, "I gave her the dignity and happiness she deserved, her womanhood, and a proper name. I had to go very far to escape that family's wrath, to a world of no consequence, and because of all that, I could never afford to restore her voice."

She gave him a smile, lacing fingers with his and whispering, "You more than made up for that."

"Oh... mygod..." Talwyn whispered, overcome with a multitude of emotions, and ashamed of jumping to such harsh conclusions. When she found her voice, she said to them faintly, "Listen... when all this is overwith, you'll have that operation. I promise." The look they gave her lifted a huge burden of guilt from her heart.

After a long moment of silence, he said to the girl softly, "Such a promise seems unlikely, given the state of our world, but, you... have our deepest gratitude for the offer, young Apogee. And _you!_" he exclaimed abruptly to Crunch.

"Yessir! Sir! Yes!" he blurted out in shock as he snapped to attention.

"You have been flying, and you rarely go alone. _What happened?_" he demanded.

Talwyn felt duty bound to rescue Crunch from a grueling interrogation. "They flew out to rescue me. Slab-"

"_Vincent_," Brock said to her gently, but firmly.

"Vincent," she repeated with a thin smile. "Now I know why he's who he is. He won't take 'no' for an answer either. You should be proud of him. He's just... amazing."

The spark of pride and defiance began to dwindle in the feloid's eyes when Talwyn left it at that, looking over Crunch's suit at the beating it had endured. "And you... do not know." His deep voice fell to an uncomfortable silence as Felicia looked to her for a sign of some hope to cling to, much like any mother would.

She couldn't fail them, and declared, picking up the pistol and handing it to Crunch, "We're going to find him, and I won't stop until we do, I promise you." She motioned for the three of them to head out.

Brock swallowed down his angst, saying to her, "Do not make any promises you cannot keep, young woman. And Clar-" He caught himself, saying with obvious restraint, "_Crunch_."

That stopped the youth dead in his tracks halfway through the front door, and he replied in stunned disbelief, "Uhh... _yes, sir?_"

He drew a deep breath to calm himself. "If it is... bad news, I would rather not know... until the proper time. Understand?" The youth nodded in somber reply, then Brock added, "And... I hope you will forgive me for the... brash greeting."

Crunch gave him a lopsided smile, as if he'd been welcomed to dinner. "Eh... I know how ya feel, Mister Bee."

Talwyn hesitated before following them out, then turned and said to him solemnly, "I, however, must beg your forgiveness for my inexcusable behavior."

He gave her a wry chuckle. "There is no need, young Apogee. Just... fulfill your promises, as you are able."

She gazed up at him in wonder and admiration, wishing to know all about them. What an amazing story their life must be. "What is your name?" she asked, holding out her hand. She meant to shake, but noticed how he was reaching and turned her hand in a more ladylike fashion.

Clasping her offered hand, he told her, "I am Brock Steel. And my wife, Felicia." She smiled admirably, as it seemed she was used to being shown off.

Talwyn shook her head slightly in amazement at this stunning drama, and all this in the midst of the worst kind of alien invasion. "I am..." she began faintly, "going to find your son for you. Be safe." She turned and trotted outside, not wanting to be seen wiping back emotional tears. "Wow," she said to herself in astonishment, "_wow_... who would've thought... Slab came from a family like that. Wow!" She approached the others, and while Crunch was donning his helmet, yelped as she punched him in the arm. "Why didn't you tell me all this!" she hissed to him guardedly.

"Hey!" he protested. "It's... ya know, _family_ stuff. Ya don't just spit that kinda stuff around."

The couple watched the misfit group as they made their way down the street. Felicia caressed her husband, wrapping her tail about his leg as she whispered, "She has feelings for our son."

He coughed out a syllable of laughter as he lightly stroked her back. "I wondered if I was perceiving that correctly. Imagine... Vincent, entangled with the likes of the Apogees. Only he could accomplish something so outrageous, to be drawn to a family such as theirs. If only..." he murmured, his voice falling silent with unspoken fears.

She assessed the flavor of the girl's spirit, whispering, "It will protect him. Love such as hers will never fail."

* * *

Talwyn wouldn't give Crunch half a moment's rest as they made their way discreetly to the next objective. "So, is your dad much like him?"

"Oh, yeah," he said with a nod. "Well, a lot anyway, ya know, they're brothers 'n stuff."

"Oh _no way-!_" she exclaimed, lowering her voice as Crunch shushed her fearfully. "Sorry. So, like, Slab is your cousin!"

He looked to her, frowning. "Well, that's what it's called, right?"

He yelped as Talwyn smacked his arm, and the two warbots shared knowing glances. "Why didn't you tell me any of this! Okay, so anyway, tell me about Felicia, like how Brock and your dad rescued her. He did help out, right? It all sounds so romantic!"

He made a face at her, muttering, "Gee... sounds kinda sad to me. I mean, I know it turned out okay, but she _was_ a slave girl and all."

"Oh, where's your sense of adventure! Oh wait... so, was Slab adopted or what?"

Poor Crunch was beginning to feel overwhelmed by the suddenly chatty girl as it was, but that last question sounded way too personal. "Hey oh, ho 'ey now, that's kinda, ya know... private. Like, doncha think Slab should really be the one to be askin' _these_ kinda questions?" Talwyn visibly deflated, and the youth had a hunch that she was just getting revved up. Peering around a corner, he informed her, "Anyway, change o' subject, we're here." He added under his breath, "And saved by the damn bell..."

She looked up with a blink at the glowing sign on the side of the building before them, saying dubiously, "The _Bunker?_" Through the soles of her boots, she could feel the ground vibrating to loud music, and muffled bass notes were audible over the distant warning sirens.

"What!" he asked. "It's a cool name. Underground, ya know. Come on."

She shook her head as they followed him down a slope to a pair of heavy duty doors that really did seem to protect a bunker. As they waited for the racer to gain them entrance, she was baffled that a bunch of clubbers wouldn't realize that a freaking war had erupted all around them. Of course, at the volume the music was playing, who would know? Then it struck her as she looked up blinking that the sign overhead was blinking _back_. "Ohmygosh... those idiots!" she exclaimed as the doors opened, and a veritable explosion of rock music drowned her out. "Hey!" she screamed at the top of her lungs to the saurian bouncer. "_You're being invaded!_"

"S'okay!" he yelled back. "We still got room left!" As she growled in frustration, he jerked a thumb at a booth to the right. "No hardware inside, lady!"

At first, she thought he meant the two warbots, then understood it was about the weapons. "Look, I have to _warn you guys-!_" she began.

He stretched his arms out wide to block her. "Take it off, babe!" he shouted.

She snarled as she pushed the pair of robots outside, "You are _so_ lucky I know what you mean!" Aiming her blaster at the power cord running to the sign, she aimed carefully, severing it with one shot. Shielding her hair from the descending sparks, she handed the weapon to Cronk. "Here! Stand guard, but don't get in a fight unless you _have_ to, got it?"

"Right!" he shouted back with a nod.

As the doors closed with a solid thud, Zephyr asked with a headshake to clear out his circuits in the relative silence, "W-what'd she say?"

"She said we had to hide 'til we have to go," he replied.

He gave his friend the robot equivalent of a frown. "I-I-I think you'd better play that audio back just to be sure. Not sayin' I doubt you or anything, but, ya know, after that one blast on Durbin, your hearin' ain't been the same."

Cronk opened his mouth, and the last few seconds of the blaring racket of the open doors roared out. Zephyr nodded, standing at attention. "Sorry, guess you're right, ol' buddy."

"Am I ever wrong?" he asked confidently.

"Ohh, don't leave me an openin' like that. I been tabulatin' the percentages!"

Talwyn gave the bouncer a snotty look as she strolled up, raising her arms and twirling around to show that she was clean, then continued on into the club. The saurian shook his head, muttering, "I got the most thankless job in the damn univoice." He blinked as a girl began stroking her fingers seductively along the curves of his pectoral muscles. "Then again..."

She was dismayed to find Crunch dancing with a feline girl on the floor, wearing just enough clothing to be decent, and tugged on his arm to get his attention. "Hey! We're looking for your parents and Slab, _remember?_"

The girl didn't hear completely and was put off, shouting, "Wha... and you even brought your girl here? You dork!"

He exclaimed defensively as she turned away, "Hey, no, wait! She's Slab's girl! Right?" He said to Talwyn, "Come on, help me out here!"

She glared at him, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "Slab! Parentals! Finding! Got it?" He nodded with a visible sigh and began to wander off. A guitar lick caught her attention and she remarked, "Wow... this sounds like Slam."

Crunch leaned over, saying in her ear, "It is Slam."

She gaped at him, squealing in disbelief. He pointed to a sign above the stage, startling her as he held her up for a moment to get a good look over the crowd. She screamed again like a little girl. "Oh, I can't believe this... I missed the last two tours!" Then just as the lad was setting her down, she caught a glimpse of a young dude in a black jacket with a mop of long dark hair, dancing with a girl, and she caved in on herself in jealousy. The noise of the show faded to a dull, distant blare as she struggled against an avalanche of emotions. No, that wasn't him. He didn't have such an attention deficit that he would ignore her after risking his life for her... and especially after she wanted to bawl her eyes out over him. She didn't even know if he was on the planet.

But she had to be sure. She pushed her way through the crowd towards the stage, spotting the glimpse of black through the writhing mob, grabbing for a sleeve as if it was a lifeline, and pulled herself to him. And found herself facing a bewildered green skinned reptile. Feeling utterly stupid at his angry scowl, she waved feebly and turned away, wondering if there was a point to all this, fighting back waves of frustration, sorrow and fear. "Slab... you have to be alive, dude... or I'll just... die..."

Looking to the stage as she wiped back a tear, she spotted the blue-green reptile that managed the band, shaking and weaving in a fairly good groove for such a rotund male. While she wasn't feeling stary-eyed over them any more, she knew that if she could get his attention, he could stop the show and warn everyone. Flinching as she grabbed his collar, she shouted in appology, "Sorry! But I have to warn you that the Cragmites have invaded!"

"What?" he exclaimed, obviously startled at first, then he shook his head at her. "There's no way! Slam has an exclusive tour date here for the X-treme Skyboard Competition qualifications!"

She gaped at the saurian for a moment in confusion, then realized what he was talking about. "No, you idiot! Not _the band-!_"

He shoved a fistful of bolts into her hand. "Don't worry your pretty little head over it! Go to the bar, have a drink on me, and enjoy the show! Say... ya know, I really dig those ears! You ever considered modeling?"

She rubbed her head in dismay as she turned aside, saying, "Has this whole universe gone stupid? Everyone's in their own little world!"

Skidd watched her go, leaning over to the manager and asking, "What was she goin' off about?"

He raised his dark glasses to eye Talwyn's curves as she wandered off. "Her? Oh, she tried to tell me _The Cragmites_ were in the cluster."

The boarder shook his head with a frown. "Nah, she's trippin'. Everyone knows The See-mites're doin' the other side o' the galaxy. So anyway, 'bout that old contract..."

Talwyn finally had no doubt that there were no Leonidas there, and grabbed Crunch by the collar of his jacket as he was frantically blabbering a parting message to the girl he'd encountered earlier. She thought it quite unfair that he had someone to care for, and was rather jealous, but also worried for her. She seemed pretty, but all too naive and vulnerable in the face of an alien invasion. If not for the fact that she needed Crunch to guide her, she would have left him with the girl. "Come on," she told him. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can get back to her." That seemed to nudge him a bit, but he was still a little slow to leave, waving to her even as Talwyn dragged him up the ramp leading to the street.

The dreadful sight of the world outside filled her with dejection, but she shrugged it off, knowing it would just weaken her. Then as they made it to the street, she stopped short as the two warbots were nowhere to be seen. "Ohmygosh... Cronk? _Zephyr?_" she called as loudly as she thought was safe.

"Oh, there ya are," the old robot said back as they emerged from behind a dumpster.

"W-we were hidin', _just_ like ya told us to," Zephyr informed her.

Talwyn was glad they provided a few moments of comedy relief on occasion, chuckling, "Just like I told you... good job, guys-"

"Zomygod!"

They all turned around to see the catgirl Crunch had been pursuing run back into the club. Talwyn grabbed his shoulder and turned him around as he seemed inclined to go back. "Maybe she'll get someone in there to listen to her. Besides, she really shouldn't be out here anyway." She nudged his arm. "Come on, we still gotta find your parents, right?"

"Uhm... yeah," he nodded a bit sheepishly as he once more set off in the lead, though not as quickly as before.

She decided to rib him a bit to get him out of his mood, saying slyly, "She seems really cute. But... do you always go after the girl wearing the _least_ amount of clothes?"

"No!" he said defensively, looking down as if he'd been nailed. "Well, I mean... _no!_" Talwyn had to laugh as the two bots looked to each other, mouthing, _yes_.

They had to avoid another Cragmite patrol as they made their way to the final stop. "Looks like they're gettin' thicker," Crunch remarked.

"You bet they are," Cronk informed him sourly. "They're takin' over yer world."

"And makin' dang sure no one can make a fuss about it," Zephyr added, cringing as the group they had been watching set off after something that caught their eye.

Crunch swallowed, moaning helplessly, "What're we gonna _do!_ We don't got an army! At least not a real one."

"You have to work that out somehow," Talwyn said to him, trying not to sound bitter about a huge Solanan warship nearby but doing nothing to help. It was too much like how the Alliance treated everyone, and she had a feeling she would ultimately have to find the central Polaris Confederation Command herself and twist a few arms. She peered around the hedgerow they were hiding behind with Cronk and Zephyr, saying, "But, first things first, let's find your parents and Slab." There was no response, and he didn't head off in front of them, and she wondered if he was thinking of sneaking back to the club. "Uhh... Crunch?"

He was gaping up in horror as a Cragmite taller than him was creeping up on them, weilding a length of pipe, grinning as he thought of the fun he would have pounding them lifeless. Then he noticed the blaster in the feloid's hand as he remembered it himself, bringing it up slowly as his muscles seemingly didn't want to respond, and lunged for him.

Just as she was turning to look, she gasped at the sound of the blaster going off. "Damn it Crunch, I _told_ you not to-!" she began hotly, choking back a cry as she saw the Cragmite land on top of the youth, firing herself, but saw that the alien was already dead, the pipe clanging to the sidewalk. Crunch was practically screaming as he struggled to get out from under the carcass, his cries muffled by the body. "Hey, quiet down, you're all right," she said, trying to calm him as she fought to roll the bulk of the dead creature away, and had to cover his face with her hand as he came free.

He jumped to his feet, silent but still quaking with fear from the attack, and Talwyn worried that he might not have the spirit to be a fighter after all. "Crunch, you did good. You saved us from that thing."

He looked down in dread at the dropped blaster Cronk offered to him, saying, "Ya need to get used to it, kid. Them Cragy-mites ain't gonna just go away."

Talwyn stroked his shoulder as he took the weapon reluctantly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeahh... I'm good..." he muttered, though clearly he wasn't.

"We... have to hide this body," she said, eying the youth. "It's just gonna lead the others this way, being out in the open like this."

"Ohh... right," he whispered, flinching back, as he didn't want anything to do with it.

The two warbots did most of the lifting, hoisting the bloated body of the creature to a dumpster they spotted not too far off, and Crunch was more than happy to serve as a lookout. Still, he had to help get it into the trash unit as it handled like a huge bladder full of Gelatonium. Crunch jumped away as it finally rolled in, and Zephyr complained, "Yegh... I-I forgot how much I hated dealin' with those dang things."

Crunch shook his gloved hands in distaste, as if there was something staining them. "Gah... at least you can't feel it..."

Talwyn spoke to him to divert his mind from the morbid scene. "It's not much further is it?"

"Uhh... no, not much," he mumbled, and it was obvious he would be slow to shake his angst, but he seemed more resolute as he set off.

Knowing how things could go, and had so far, she asked further, "Have you thought about where to try if they aren't there?"

"Uhh... yeah. Sorta," he replied in a way that meant he either hadn't, or their hunt could go on indefinitely.

The thought made her want to cry, and worse than that were notions of the many ways Slab could have perished, either in space or down here. Gripping her pistol, she whispered stubbornly, "He's alive... he just _is_."

Crunch led them to a hub of businesses around a strip mall, away from the capital, and in the center was a substantial holovid theater, The Bentwood. Talwyn chuckled at the sight of something she considered a cultural relic. "An _aich-vee theater?_ You guys still _have_ those?"

"What?" he retorted, blinking in confusion. "Every... place has a theater. Except I guess, yours. Like... whadya do on weekends?"

She stopped short, her mouth hanging open as she realized that the life of an explorer brat exiled to a space station didn't include such luxuries as a social life or weekends. "Uhh... curl up with a good book?" When he gaped at her in surprise, she waved him off. "Come on... let's go, so we can see if we have to keep looking."

Since the mall was further away from the center of the capital, there didn't seem to be any patrols of rampaging Cragmites yet, but she knew better than to count on that much longer and still crept their way along the walkways beside the many shops just in case. That depressed her badly, as the darkened windows were decorated with their best goods and the trappings of Millennium Day, and the mood was darkened even more with the incessant morbid wailing of the civil defense sirens. No doubt, they needed this celebration badly to cheer their lives on this backwater world, and spur an economy that relied on black market trafficking to survive. They had to be absolutely crushed by the invasion, and she ached with sympathy as she saw signs of this in the young feloid, his tail drooping lifelessly. It seemed that every millennium was plagued with chaos and disaster for whatever reason. "But, this time..." she whispered to herself, "couldn't they have just waited _two damn months?_"

Her heart wilted as it seemed the theater was sealed up, with curtains across the expanse of glass fronting it, doors and all, and when Crunch tapped on the doors, nothing happened. But peering close to the pane, it seemed there was a dim glow inside, and then she caught a blur of movement. One door abruptly opened and a voice hissed at them, "Get in here, hurry!" It was one of the theater jockeys in a uniform, and he hustled them inside before closing and locking the doors. They all blinked in shock as a swarm of people descended on them, shouting out names frantically. Her heart twisted in sorrow as she realized they were parents and relatives, friends, hoping to see loved ones coming through the door. As the ones in front saw it was no one they knew, they turned aside sadly as the ones behind continued shouting, hoping against hope for good fortune.

Suddenly, Crunch perked up and began pushing his way through the crowd, and she could see someone tall doing the same thing from the other side. While she prayed it was Slab, she was still relieved when he cried, "Dad? _Dad!_" and threw himself into someone's arms. She wanted to focus on them and this touching reunion, but had to deal with a flurry of questions from the others, as much like she had for a while, they asked if she had seen some loved one or other, and she had to tell them that they hadn't seen a soul. One by one, they wandered away sadly.

"Take that silly thing off," the Leonid male said as he removed Crunch's helmet, and she smiled at the sight of the lad in tears as they embraced. He seemed very much like his brother, like a twin, and as the cliche went, they all seemed to look alike. "Are you all right?"

The lad couldn't speak for a moment, nodding, and finally blubbered out, "M-mom... where is-?"

"I'm right here, son," said a woman as she pushed through the lingering crowd to his side, grabbing the youth to her, and rubbing her cheek in his hair as he lay his head on her bosom. She seemed a lot like Angela, and Talwyn reflected unhappily that she had too many people to worry about. She clasped the youth's face in her hands, asking in a scolding tone, "Clarence... what the devil were you doing out there!"

Realizing that there was a small audience around, he pulled away and tried to collect himself. "Uhh... hey, listen... could we chill on the... _'C' name?_ At least for now?"

Talwyn had to stifle a laugh as the two parents shared droll glances, and the male replied, "Very well... _Crunch_. But... couldn't you have chosen a better street name than _that?_"

"Well, ya know..." he shrugged in a way it seemed he'd tried to explain this before, "it was kinda given to me."

"You should have given it _back_," the male retorted, and this time, the others couldn't repress their laughter.

"Okay, listen!" Crunch cut in irritably. "We had to fly out 'n save her." He nodded to Talwyn and the warbots, who were beginning to feel out of place and fidgeted.

"Out _where?_" the male asked demandingly. "And save her from _what?_"

"Well, the, uh..." the youth began, running his fingers through his mane, "invasion. And it didn't go too well."

The pair of adults gasped in shock, and the male continued, "Do _not_ tell me the Saber is destroyed!" Talwyn had wondered what the starfighter's name was.

"No! No..." Crunch replied evasively. "Just... mostly..."

"Oh, damn it to _Viceron_..." He held his head in his hand for a moment as if in pain, then went on urgently, "Well... that is _something_, at least. And Vincent, what of _him?_"

Crunch and Talwyn both visibly swallowed, looking to each other worriedly as he replied in a soft tone, "I was kinda... hopin' he'd be here, waitin'..."

Logically, it wasn't the last hope she had, but she wasn't feeling too logical just then, and couldn't hold back the tears which welled up in her eyes. Was it too much to ask that _something_ went right? She realized that the male had noticed her emotional state and spoken to her. She missed most of it, but realized he had asked her name. Wiping her face, she took the feloid's large hand with her own in a shake, trying to gather her wits. "Talwyn... Talwyn Apogee," she said faintly at first, and when they looked to each other in surprise, she gave them a thin smile. "Yeah, _that_ Apogee. And please... tell me your names. I want to know who raised this incredible son."

The three Leonida looked to each other in surprise, and Crunch looked down sheepishly as his father chuckled. "Well, it has been some time since he was called _that_. But then, this has been a rather singular night. I am Samson Steel, and this is my mate, Rachel." As they both took her hand once more, he added, "I regret your misfortune, coming to this hapless world at such a time, but it is a relief to know that you are safe. And that our son had a hand in it, at least, is a pleasant surprise."

Crunch muttered sourly, "Hey, you don't gotta make it sound so ludicous."

They all needed a good laugh, and as it died away into an uncomfortable silence, the four lifeforms jumped as the doors opened and in poured a large group of wanderers. The people lounging around the concession stand pounced on them like predators, and Talwyn cringed at the thought that if Slab was among them, she might be the last to know. The manager evidently warned them all to keep quiet as their calls were reduced to a dull roar, but whoever was in charge of the newcomers had no such restraint, bellowing, "Ralph Kinadle? _Where the hell are you!_"

The manager came running around the counter fretfully, the pair meeting somewhere in the middle of the mob. Talwyn looked up as Samson grumbled, "Mister Bentwood, the tight fisted real estate developer, and owner of this mall." She thought _tight fisted_ might have been putting it mildly as the man began complaining angrily about letting people in without a fee and eating freely from the concessions.

The Steel brothers were the first truly intelligent people Talwyn had encountered among the citizenry, and she had this one available. "Samson, listen... tell me about Odum... the government, the defense forces... anyone who could organize a resistance movement."

The look she got wasn't encouraging. "You obviously know nothing about this world. Our President, Origama, was only elected because he is a pretty man with a silver tongue, with no experience in anything of consequence. Our Planetary Council is little better, headed by Speaker Fundle, and is only Speaker because his family ran Odum for generations. They know no better than to continue a tradition of politics by payoff to special interests, and are so inept that any tax windfalls are usually due to clerical errors. As a result, any military Odum once had has been gutted, run by politically appointed figureheads. When Emperor Tachyon declared war, there was no possibility to acquire suitable defense of any kind, so the Planetary Council agreed to a non-aggression treaty, meaning a cut of what little wealth we had was given over to the Empire, in hopes of buying peace." He spat out bitterly, "Some of us knew this day would come, but no one would listen."

Talwyn grew increasingly aghast at the Leonida's tirade, and understood fully as Rachel clasped herself to her husband. "I can't believe this..." she whispered, although she knew enough of history and from seeing the state Odum was in that it couldn't be much better than that. "But... there has to be _someone_ who can pull your people together! Some command officer who never got promoted because he caused trouble, making too much sense. A police captain, a business leader... _somebody!_"

Samson gave her an appreciative look. "You are amazingly intelligent, as I should expect from an Apogee. But character is a rare commodity on a world run by graft and laundered money. I suspect that the Cragmites have destroyed the military bases around the world, and any troops, killed, captured or scattered. Likewise, any place which appears to have an administrative function, government or police, is no doubt in ruin. We are lucky the utilities are still running, but this simply means that Odum is no threat to them, and they want to capture it intact. As for businessmen, they are too busy clawing their way to the top. However..." he added thoughtfully, and Talwyn waited expectantly for him to continue. "There is the Port Authority Captain Shlufski. He is the one official among them all who seems to have any sense and a shred of decency, and I chalk that up to his offworld service in the military."

Talwyn smiled with a shake of the head. "Well, that explains a lot." But just as quickly as that glimmer of hope sprung to life, it was nearly snuffed out. "Oh... damn it, and one of the places they would hit early is the Spaceport..."

He nodded somberly. "A wise assumption. However, the Main Port has likely been saved for the invaders' use, and thus, spared Shlufski's life. He is a cagey robot, and if anyone can work the Cragmites to their advantage and survive, it would be him."

_If_... if they were just Drophyds, she wouldn't be as worried, but Cragmites were crazy, and the thought of that charming, handsome veteran with the cute accent at the mercy of those ruthless monsters twisted her stomach. In fact she felt a wave of nausea, and realized she hadn't had anything to eat for several hours. "I can't just leave him there," she whispered, looking to the concession stand. "Hey, I have to eat something, then I really gotta go." She ignored Samson's call to her, looking over the crowd of new arrivals, but all of them looked too well dressed, and none was a tall, adorable Leonid with a mop of black hair. However, she did notice several of them eating pizza, and it looked much too good to have come from the cheaper stuff at the concessions. She said to the teen behind the counter, "Gimme a small nacho with jalapenos, a Polaris sausage with lots of mustard, and a small diet Proton."

The kid watched the manager being grouched at by the portly owner, saying guardedly, "I uh... think you gotta pay for that this time."

"I can't believe some of the people in this universe..." she growled, drawing a bag of bolts from her pouch and calling, "Oohhh, Misster Beee-eee!" When she had the owner's attention, his eyes bugged out as she dumped a gleaming pile of money on the counter. "Concessions are on me tonight," she told the boy. "Let me know if this runs out."

"Uhh... doubt _that's_ gonna happen," he replied as he scrambled to get her order together.

Kinadle had his fill of Bentwood's rants, and noticing Cronk and Zephyr looking lethargic, turned from his boss to speak with them. "Listen, you guys look like you could use a recharge." He jerked a thumb at the red faced owner, still hissing out angrily. "On him."

"Oh, n-now yer speakin' our language!" Zephyr exclaimed as they trailed after him.

"You're a real lifesaver," Cronk agreed.

"Is that a candy mint or a breath mint?" Zephyr asked his friend.

"I think it's two mints in one."

Her almost nutritious but filling meal in hand, she made sure to trip Bentwood as he made a beeline for the pile of bolts the kid began to count. "Oops. Sorry," she lied. On the offhand chance that pizza might mean something, she went back and grabbed Crunch by the arm, pointing. "Did you guys deliver that?"

At first he wasn't sure, then his eyes opened. "Oh yeah! That Bentwood guy, he throws parties 'n orders these weird flavors that don't exist... or shouldn't."

He fell silent as he realized he was confirming Slab's presence to her, perhaps his last moments of life, her eyes closing with a sigh as she absently nibbled on a nacho chip. "Oh. Slab... where the hell _are_ you-"

She nearly spilled her tray as the doors burst open, and a horde of hoodlums barged in, raising their voices in jubilation. "Oh, mama," one exclaimed, drawing a noisy snort of air. "Dig that movie theater ambiance!"

"I smell nachos, and popcorn, and Polaris sausage!" one short swinish thug remarked hungrily.

"That's what I'm talkin' 'bout, Love Hog," a partner said with a slap to his shoulder.

As the crowd of people drew back fearfully, some of them blinked in surprise as a hooligan came to the front of the crowd and deposited a short, skinny older fellow on unsteady legs who clearly wasn't one of the posse. "Lan' sakes!" he blurted out. "Couldn't you ruffians take it a li'l easier on an old Councilman?"

"Ya know..." began the tall lanky youth who had been carrying him as he removed his helmet, "you sure got a funny way o' sayin' _Thanks for savin' my life_."

"Hey!" shouted someone from the circle of people. "It's Elmer Fundle!"

"It _is!_" someone else chimed in, and then everyone began to raise their voices as they pressed forward.

"Oh crap," Fundle blurted out, "_constituents_, and me without my press secretary." Hoping to placate them, he raised his hands, trying to be heard over the crowd. "Easy, citizens, everything's under control-!"

"The hell it is!" someone shot back, and the crowd surged forward with no regard for the gang, who began to backpedal nervously.

"Looks like things 're gonna get ugly in a hurry," one remarked guardedly. "Mayhaps we should extricate ourselves to the concession stand."

"I'm feelin' a bit peckish m'self," Love Hog agreed. "Good luck, Speaker dude."

The gang halted as Bentwood pushed the poor manager forward to deal with them, saying over Kinadle's shoulder, "Now _hold on here!_ How did you get in, anyway!"

As Love Hog began to show them a bent hair pin, the leader slapped his arm down. "Door was unlocked."

"I doubt that," the owner snapped. "Regardless, the offerings of this establishment are _not free!_ Tell them, Ralph!"

As the cinema manager struggled to find his voice, the counter jockey called to them, "Uh... actually Mister Bentwood, concessions are covered for the night, and then some." He held up a few bolts from the pile he was still counting to reinforce the point.

The bruiser in front leaned forward, glaring over Kinadle's shoulder at the owner, the man fearing he was about to be caught in a shoving match. "See?"

Bentwood used the manager's body to press them back, changing his tact. "It doesn't matter. This theater has certain standards of dress and conduct! Not to mention language. Now I suggest you all leave and find some _other_ unfortunate place to infest for the night!"

"Hey, that cuts kinda deep," the ruffian leading them responded in a hurt voice. "Besides, we may not exactly be doffed in rich finery, but we're not in violation of any o' the galaxy's dress codes! Now... good taste, that's a matter of opinion there..."

"An'... we didn't say anything truly offensive..." mumbled the portly thug at his side. "I mean, _ambiance_ is actually a rather complimentary term-"

"I don't care! Out!" ordered the owner, thrusting his arm at the startled goon from under an equally stunned Kinadle's armpit.

"Oh _yeah?_" the young punk who had carried Fundle remarked sarcastically as he came forward. "Well, you might wanna reconsider throwin' these dudes out, seein' as you're their _sponsor_ 'n everything." Bentwood began to choke, gaping through the crook in Kinadle's arm at the motley crew.

"You mean, this outta shape skinflint bolt pincher is our _sponsor?_" the gang leader asked incredulously.

"That would explain our less than luxurious accommodations..." his friend remarked dryly.

"Ohmygod... Slab? _Slab!_" Talwyn cried, trying to push through the crowd at first, but then realized it would be easier to cut through to the rear and work her way around. She practically threw her food tray down on a counter, grabbing a bite from the sausage, then dashed around the back of the crowd, trying unsuccessfully to shout around the mouthful. Crunch emerged from the mob a moment later, spotting Talwyn's abandoned tray and picked it up to bring to her, hesitating a second to take a drag from the soda.

The Speaker tried to justify admitting the crowd of goons in a rather whiny voice. "Now hold on, Bentwood. These fine... upstanding, er..." He looked them over dubiously. "Uhm, uhh..."

"Sportsmen," one said.

"Sports _persons,_" a female told him, smacking him in the side of the head, to which he muttered sheepishly, "I stand corrected."

"Yes... anyway, they saved my life when I was sure I was gonna get vaporized by one o' those Cruisers," the Speaker insisted. "Or at least this one di - _oh, my word_," he mumbled, falling silent as a sultry woman drifted past them like smoke.

Slab blinked in surprise as the buxom seductress who had been scoping him out at the party came for him, walking her fingers up the front of his jacket. "Hey, tall, dark and feline... I wondered what happened to you. The party was just getting started when you left." As the horde of racers gave a low lurid howl, she ran her fingers through his thick mane. "And then those nasty old invaders broke in and drove me out of my own home..."

He stepped slowly backwards, but this just seemed to encourage her, and she tried to wrap herself around him as intimately as she could, managing to succeed as he bumped into an ornate column. "Oh, uhh... ya know, that's been happenin' a lot lately..." he muttered awkwardly. "Really... sorry 'bout that..."

The lad's heart rate nearly doubled as the woman pressed every curve of her torso into him, trapping him against the column as she crooned into his mouth, "I know... something... that would make me feel a _whole_ lot better..."

His eyes fluttered closed as urges and passions that had only been hinted at previously began raging through his lanky form, and his pants suddenly felt much too tight. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to find something dissuasive to say, though he began to wonder if he wanted to, or just give in. His lips stroking against hers, he gasped out brokenly, "Wah-wa-wa, wa-wa... _wahhh-at's that?_"

His eyes sprang open as a painfully familiar voice seemed to pierce him through. "Why not let her finish, then we'll _all_ know."

"Talwyn!" he exclaimed, thrusting his arm out like a piston. He drove the young woman with a squeal into the portly form of Bentwood, who had caught sight of this sensuous display and tromped forward, sending them both sprawling.

"That's my name," she remarked in an icy tone, her arms crossed. She was glad to see him squirming under his flight suit, as males had a tendency to spill things under interrogation by females they otherwise wouldn't dream of. Like who the hell this bimbo was. "So, what's up, _Vinny?_ I see you've been out socializing while your world's been getting trashed."

He managed a half syllable of apology when he caught that she'd said his proper name. "Aww, cummon, don't say... _that_ out loud. Please? How'd you know, anyhow?" He gave Crunch an accusing look when he noticed his friend approaching with a meal, and realized he was hours late for any kind of food.

"Never mind that," she snapped, and the feloid watched nervously as her tail began whipping back and forth, a sure sign of impending doom. She tried to shut out the absurd and quite annoying "shouting" match between Bentwood and his lady as they carried on in wild waving and loud whispers. "I've been looking all over for you, ya know? And here, I find you've been schmoozing at some... councilman's bash, while I've been worried sick that... I might never see you again!" She was becoming so emotionally frazzled, she felt close to tears. But she wasn't about to let him see her cry, and managed to remain properly outraged.

"Hey, hold on now," he began defensively. "It ain't like that-"

"So what _is_ it like, Slab?" she demanded hotly. "What happened up there, anyhow?"

"Yeah, that's what I wanna know." Talwyn blinked in surprise as she found her tray thrust into her hands. Crunch stepped slowly forward, seeming almost to be stalking his partner. "Last thing I remember, when the whole sky full'o those damn ships were bein' blown to crap, I was the only one _there_. Where were _you_, ol' buddy?"

Talwyn fought down a shiver, her own anger forgotten, hoping things weren't like she feared. "Hey... I was lookin' for you-" Slab began, but it was hard to miss a look of guilt in his eyes.

"Really?" Crunch asked in a sarcastic tone, causing his friend to backpedal as he pressed forward. "See, I was afraid I was gonna die. I don't know why I didn't. But I was scared for you when the explosions finally stopped, and I tried to go back into that mess o' flyin' blasted scrap, and _that_ was bad enough. _Then_, those bastards were so pissed off, they shot their own ships up tryin' to fry _me_. And they almost did. But I didn't see _you_ anywhere." He forced Slab back into the column he'd retreated to before, asking in a steely tone that wasn't really a question, "You _ran_, didn'tcha."

"Hey, I thought you went back home! I didn't see you!" Slab blurted out defensively. "You never stick around for squat-!"

"Yeah, unless _your tail's_ caught in it!" Crunch cut in like a knife stab, seizing the other feloid by the lapels of his half unzipped flight jacket and shoving him against the column. "You always pull crazy crap like this... go flyin' into stuff half lit, and I _never_ know what the game plan is, 'n then when it hits the fan, you book off. See, I couldn't see _you_ either. That's why I went _back_ into that scrap hell! Couldn't stand the thought of my only cousin dyin' in that mess!" He looked angrier as his comrade stood there, blinking in a dumbfounded silence. "Always thought you'd be there... save me from anything. Guess I was wrong, huh."

He visibly chafed as Slab's gaze fell, slumping against the column feebly, standing only because Crunch wouldn't let him go. At last, he muttered a faint, "Sorry..."

"Sorry!" He winced as he shoved the youth hard against the pillar, his canines bared. "Z'that all you got, is _sorry?_"

"Hey, Crunch-" Talwyn began, hoping to defuse things before it truly got ugly.

"Back off," he told her in a frightening tone, his burning stare locked on Slab's crestfallen face, as if daring him to look up. She gasped as Crunch raised his hand, and Slab winced, bracing for the blow to come. He flinched, choking back a startled yelp as the palm landed on his cheek, then eased up in surprise; it wasn't all _that_ hard. The fingers closed around his face, jostling him as Crunch ordered, "Hey... look at me. Come on." When they finally opened, his cousin gave him a long, hard stare, before telling him quietly, "Don't... _ever_ do that to me again. That was dead wrong. If you ever start somethin' you can't finish... at least gimme a heads up. Okay?" Slab managed a muffled "Um-hphm" around Crunch's grasp. It seemed to take forever, but at last, he uncurled his fist from the other's lapel and slapped his chest in the grip of mixed emotions, murmuring, "Now... let's go. Your folks're worried about you." He turned away somberly, wandering back to his own parents.

Talwyn's stomach knotted as she gazed at him. He stood there, not turning to look at her, just staring at the floor, a pathetic sight. It was rather jarring to learn this way that he was mortal, the facade of Lombax-like bravado peeling away to reveal a typical roughneck teenager who caved in when he found himself over his head. She hated public humiliations, whether she cared for the victim or not. She didn't feel the need to judge him; heavens knew how many people would have been crazy enough to do as much as he had in a similar situation, outside of a certain Lombax. But then, who could measure up to Ratchet? She wanted to conclude this wretched moment, and began softly, "Hey, Slab... I-" Her voice fell silent as she caught the sound of a cleared throat, turning in shock to see dozens, perhaps hundreds, of pairs of eyes on them. Planting her fist on her hip, she told the crowd scoldingly, "Don't you people have something _else_ to do?"

The portly Swine twiddled his fingers and started to reply, "Uhh... no, not real-"

He was saved from death as the leader grabbed him by the collar and steered him away with the others, muttering guardedly, "_Wrong_ answer, Love Hog..."

As she shook her head in dismay at the retreating mob, Slab murmured sheepishly, "Hey... thanks for... puttin' up with me 'n all, but you don't gotta hang around anymore."

She heaved a sigh at the sight of this once proud, downright arrogant youth wallowing in self pity, and ran her fingers along his sleeve lightly, wondering how to restore his spirit. "Hey, listen... don't be so hard on yourself. So, you cracked under pressure. You aren't the only one, believe me. And you went through hell first, when I all but threatened to kill you for it." She was heartened as he snorted with a thin smile of recollection. To drive the point home, she added, "And, ya know... you saved my life. Twice. Says a lot to a girl when a guy does something like that." When he looked up in surprise, she gave him a warm half smile as she took his arm. "Come on now, we have to get you reunited with your parents. They're worried sick over you."

He looked up pensively at that, asking, "So... you met the oldies?"

She shook her head slightly as she relived the amazing memory. "Ohh, did I ever." He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but went along obediently.

* * *

She had to admire him as he mustered the courage to meet his uncle, and after a gruff reacquaintance, no doubt typical of the Steel family, Slab broke down and confessed tearfully. After a few stern words from the startled parents, all was forgiven, as far as she could tell. She had to smother a laugh as Crunch threatened to slug his cousin if he didn't stop crying. It looked like things would be getting back to normal.

Except they didn't, at least not at first. Samson got them some food from the concession stand, and though he wanted everyone to eat together, Rachel urged him to allow Slab and Crunch to go off on their own to decompress from their ordeal. '_Vincent and Clarence_,' Talwyn thought to herself with a grin as she watched the pair off nibbling somberly. 'No wonder they adopted such outlandish nicknames. They probably got picked on in school.'

She had encouraged Samson to reminisce, as she was dying to hear the history of the two brothers. Besides, it would probably be cathartic to have something to discuss besides the overthrow of their world. But as she snuck glances to the pair off on their own, she found herself wanting to be with the tall, once brash young racer punk with the mop of black hair and the crushed spirit. When a suitable pause came along, she excused herself to wander over to the others, Samson and Rachel sharing a knowing look.

"Hey."

The two feloids looked up as she came over and sat on the floor, closer to Slab than Crunch, but not too close. "Mind if I join you?" she asked, clearly insisting.

"Uhh... _no_, sure," Slab replied vacantly, his eyes downcast.

Crunch and Talwyn shared looks with heaved sighs, and the male spoke up first. "Slab... come on, dude, it's not that bad-"

"Yeah it is," he interrupted sourly. "You're right... I let you down hard, almost... permanent like..."

Crunch gave a shrug, unsure just what to say. "Well... yeah, but... dude, you gotta come back to life. I need the old Slab back. You know... the guy who made off with all the cookie dough in the school kitchen."

"You _didn't!_" Talwyn laughed.

It was encouraging to hear Slab chuckle, even if he didn't raise his eyes just yet. "Yeah, that was somethin'..." he said through a lopsided grin. "Ate so much, we were sick for two days. Still can't stand the smell o' that stuff."

"So, uhh... how 'bout you drop this pity party?" Crunch offered. "Seriously. I don't know what the hell to do, 'n we got problems."

"Yeah... 'ts not that simple..." he drawled, his smile fading away. "Ya know... ya go yer whole life, thinkin' yer really somethin', and doin' everything ya can to make sure everyone knows it. Then, when it really counts, that's when ya look inside, and... ya see what's in there ain't so cool after all. Kinda... hurts, bad... especially 'cause 'o what... might'a happened. Ya know?" He looked up briefly, adding, "I just... found out who I really am, 'n I gotta get used to it. We'll see how it goes. Okay?"

Talwyn withered inside, wishing there was something she could do for him, as she realized how much she truly cared for this young male, and how much she wanted to be a part of restoring his soul. Thinking of him caused a tickle deep in the pit of her stomach. 'But then, what about Ratchet?' she wondered with an inner sigh. That was a question she didn't have an answer to, at least just yet. One thing she did know; she had to leave. As much as she cared for Slab, Odum was in trouble, and she needed to see if she could do something to help these people get on their feet. Right now, that meant finding the Port Boss and getting some insight from someone familiar with Odum's peculiar power base. Or what was left of it.

And this meant leaving Slab, which was something she really didn't want to do. More than anything, she wanted to help mend his wounded pride and find that reckless confidence that made him so attractive. But as Sasha had pointed out, you often couldn't do what you wanted. _Sasha_... that caused her to wilt all over again, the thought of having to go back at some point and face the music, much like Slab was doing now. If she didn't get killed here, she was probably going to get killed _there_...

Strangely, though, she found it more painful to do what she was about to, but having only a rough idea how much night time she had, she forced herself to rise to her feet. "Uhm... hey..." Slab looked up to her, which was something she wanted, to see the glisten of those big round eyes of his looking into hers, even though it would make things incredibly more difficult. She had to kick herself into action when the moment lingered much too long, and she felt that tickle inside. "Uhm... I gotta go to the little girl's room. You guys don't leave without me. Okay?"

He bore a funny expression for a moment as he tried to find his voice. "Uhh... sure, yeah. Won't go nowhere."

She stroked his shoulder softly, wanting a hug right then; a big, tight hug that enveloped her completely, let her drink in that Leonida fragrance, and melted her against him like chocolate. She wanted to ask him to come, along with Crunch, but he was just too unraveled right now to think of asking something like that. Besides, his dad would probably throw two epic fits when he found out, and then there would still be Samson to deal with. "Okay... see ya in-a..."

She couldn't finish, turning and making a bee line for the women's rest room because she really did need to go before setting off, having been on the run almost non-stop for what seemed like days.

Crunch noticed his cousin staring after the girl with a haunted look on his face, and sought for something to say to spark some life in him. "Special girl, huh. I, uhh... think she likes ya."

Slab nodded quietly as he watched her vanish around the corner of the auditorium, recognizing something in her that used to burn brightly in his own spirit. 'She still does... even when I ratted out on Crunch, she still thinks somethin' of me... _why?_'

"Look alive, guys."

Cronk and Zephyr rattled to life, their optical sensors resolving the image of Talwyn making sure they were free to rise from the charging stations. "Who hooked you up?"

"Oh, uh... the manager," Cronk replied as he slung his old blaster.

"Said i-it was on that owner fella," Zephyr added, the pair smirking to each other knowingly.

"Yeah, right," Talwyn remarked dryly, checking her own pistol. "Anyway, we're outta here. Let's go."

"Uhh..." Cronk began hesitantly as he followed, as the girl seemed rather glum. "What about them furry fellers... Scab and... uh..."

"Clump," Zephyr added, then scratched his dome. "Or was it Brunch?"

"That's enough, _Crotch and Zipper_," she snapped, giving the pair a look that stopped them momentarily in their tracks.

Cronk shared a feeble shrug with his friend, murmuring guardedly, "Well, there go a couple awesome names we can't have any fun with..."

The rear door of the theater creaked open, letting in the smells and sounds of a devastated world as Talwyn peeked around the corner, her pistol at the ready. "Coast is clear, guys," she said quietly over her shoulder as she emerged, then when her robot companions were outside, she made sure the massive metal door was secure.

"First time I ever snuck _out_ of a holovid theater," Cronk remarked.

"You two actually snuck into movie theaters?" Talwyn asked with a smirk as she assumed the lead.

"Oh, yeah, lotsa times," he replied. "The last one was at Outpost Psylon. Lesse, that one was... oh yeah, Attack of the Fifty Cubit Centerfold."

"Most epic cleavage I ever saw..." Zephyr said wistfully. "Wh-why, I recall the co-star was lost in it for _days_."

Cronk laughed saucily, "Hee-he didn't care much fer bein' rescued, neither-"

"Change of _subject_, guys," Talwyn grumbled as she led them away from the mall. Though she didn't care for it, the two old warbots reminiscing about lusty adventures were the least of her troubles. It seemed as if this horrible night would never end. The air stank with the tang of stuff burning. In the distance, the dull booms of explosions seemed to reverberate forever. Overhead, the shapes of Imperial Cruisers drifted lazily, as if waiting for a chance to gleefully rain down fire on them. She mentally apologized to Crunch for giving him so much grief over that girl he couldn't tear himself away from. It felt that there was a cord of life between herself and Slab that made each step increasingly hard to take, as if it was being drawn tight and threatened to snap, she feared permanently. And to make everything truly dismal, the awful wailing of the civil defense sirens droned endlessly, as if bemoaning the death of the world in a mournful requiem. She hissed through clenched teeth, "Would you _pleeease_ kill those damn sirens?"

"Wish we could, Miss Talwyn," Cronk murmured, "but they follow certain rules-"

"I know. And, guys... listen," Talwyn sighed, "just bear with me. It's not easy to deal with this, watching a world get blasted. You two... you've seen a lot of action. Does it ever get any easier?"

Cronk replied in a somber tone, "Well... no, not really. It always sucks."

"'Specially knowin' that the Phoe-" Zephyr began.

Talwyn quickly hushed him. "We won't discuss... _certain subjects_, just in case. Understand?" When they were done silently communicating with each other and nodded, she gave them a thin, melancholy smile. "Okay then, let's go."

As they clumped along behind her, Zephyr shook his head at himself. "And here, I've been in the military too long to forget stuff like that."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Cronk told him with a grin. "Just makes me feel better knowin' I'm not the only one with a loose screw here 'n there."

"W-well... at least my arms don't fall off," Zephyr retorted chidingly.

The trek back into the capitol city grew increasingly dangerous, as Cragmite patrols became more common. And while it wasn't necessarily so, it seemed that there were more Cruisers overhead, floating over the city like huge dragons, ready to breathe fire on unsuspecting refugees fleeing for their lives.

The trio hugged themselves close to the wall of a building as they watched a patrol making their way down a street, and Talwyn's stomach lurched when she saw a group of citizens being marched in front of them at gunpoint. She peered at the group anxiously, feeling a bit better when she determined that no feloids or vulpoids were among them, but only a little. Squeezing her pistol in an iron grip, her heart went out to the poor souls being led to an uncertain fate, and prayed that it was just imprisonment. "Damn it... if only I could _save_ them," she whispered in anguish.

"Well, if we don't find someone on this dirtball with a smidge o' gumption, they'd be better off rollin' over 'n playin' dead-" Cronk began, but he stopped short. Everyone froze as there was the sound of grit being crushed behind them.

*NEW MATERIAL*

They all whipped around in unison, weapons poised to blast whatever was sneaking up on them.

"Hey, wait, _hold on!_" a young feloid cried anxiously some ways off, doing his best to cower behind a pair of outstretched hands. "Didn't you guys hear me?"

"Crunch," Talwyn sighed in relief, half smiling at the youth's reaction as they lowered their blasters. "Sorry, it's kind of hectic out here. Uhm, where's...?" she asked, letting the sentence dangle as she looked wistfully for a sign of his cousin.

"I sorta left 'im there," he admitted with a shrug, clutching the blaster she had given him earlier. "He's still kinda... _you know_..."

"Oh, yeah... sure..." Talwyn's heart wilted at the news, though the hope that Slab would be there too was a pretty thin one. Her demeanor shifted just then, and she remarked, "So, anyway, get over here and make sure you don't fall down or something."

He wondered at that and began to trudge forward when his ears caught a sound behind him. His stomach lurched in alarming realization, and he felt much like he had when caught between the Cragmite fleet and the oncoming missiles. 'Crap, crap, _crapping hell-!_' he thought in a moment of terror, when the toe of his boot caught on a split in the sidewalk.

"Now!" Talwyn snapped as Crunch tumbled to the ground, opening fire on the pair of Cragmites creeping along the side of the building behind the unwary Leonid.

"Oh, yeah!" Cronk blurted out, adding his blaster fire along with Zephyr a moment later. The startled aliens blubbered in shock as the bolts of energy seared into them, not expecting armed opposition from the scruffy citizens. It didn't take many shots from the potent weapons to bring them down.

"I can't believe you two didn't notice them!" Talwyn said chidingly to the old soldiers.

The pair looked between each other in perplexion for a moment. "Uhh... sun was in my eyes," Cronk blurted out. Talwyn groaned, giving his arm a slap, and Zephyr shook his head, pointing to the sky wordlessly. "D'ohh... dang it," the old soldier grumbled as the girl marched off, "didn't notice what time it was."

"If you can't tell the difference between day and night," his friend stammered sarcastically, 'y-you _really_ need to get those sensors checked."

Talwyn had to smile as Crunch whimpered from the sidewalk, shivering face down and covering his head, "Am I still alive?"

"I'm no doctor," she chuckled as he flinched at her touch, helping him to unsteady feet. "But I'd say the prognosis is looking favorable."

He looked behind him for a moment at the bloated bodies of the fallen aliens, turning back with a shudder at the thought of being caught in the deadly crossfire. "I'm... never gonna get used to this," he muttered, fingering the grip of his blaster uncertainly.

"You think them Craggymites are gonna be handin' out flyers or somethin'? Careful there," Cronk added as Talwyn gently guided his aim down to the street.

"Ya-y-you gotta face facts, kid," Zephyr advised him, trying to sound authoritative. "Alien invasions ain't no picnic. 'Specially not from these scallywags."

"They would know," Talwyn added quietly, holding the youth's gaze in her own, hoping to instill some confidence in him. "But hey... even though you shoudn't have, you had the nerve to come looking for us. That's really something." They fell silent, as they both knew there was someone else she wanted badly to be with.

"You guys need to watch yer back-"

They all whirled around as a dark figure abruptly appeared behind them, bristling with weapons, and found himself facing four upraised blasters, one quivering a bit. "Hey-oh, oh-ey!" he exclaimed, backpedalling. "King's X!"

"Ease up, guys!" Talwyn practically shouted, holstering her blaster as she danced up to the tall racer punk, standing before him, trying to hold her emotions in check. She stood there gazing at him silently for an embarrasingly long time, but she didn't care just then. The sight of Slab there in front of her made her feel like soft candle wax feeding a flame. She missed the whisper of three sighs heaved as the others shared knowing looks. Finding her voice at last, she murmured much too sweetly, "You came... you really came."

"Yeah, well..." the youth murmured in a soft voice, having trouble keeping his mind focused as he nearly lost himself in her jewel-like eyes, "I uh... felt like a jerk let'n Crunch run off on me like that. The streets are crazy dangerous, 'n he never could win a fight, 'cept with a girl-"

"Hey, come on, man!" Crunch objected.

"-And only half o' them," Slab added with a grin as the others enjoyed a laugh at his cousin's expense. "Besides, you guys seriously need a clue. Like goin' to the cop shack for firepower."

"Oh, yeah-!" Talwyn began hopefully, looking to the weapons, but then the obvious hit her. "Oh, wait... so, the police completely abandoned the city and fled."

"Can ya blame 'em?" Slab retorted. "Cragmites may be stupid, but they're freakin' mean!"

Talwyn gazed up at the feloid, discouragement all over her face as she remembered that the Steel families were outsiders. The people of this world seemed hopeless. "Slab... is there _anyone_ who might stand up to the Cragmites on Odum?"

"Hey, sure there are. There's plenty of outsiders like us. There's..." His voice trailed off for a moment as the implications of an alien invasion came to mind. "Well, some o' the military, assumin' they survived anyhow. A lotta robots live here. And... well, there's crooks 'n stuff."

As usual, it was the typical list of the tattered fragments of a blasted society. It would take a strong leader to motivate these contrary groups into a cohesive, unified force which would stand together against these tyrants, and she knew one man which could do that, or knew someone else who would. "Slab, I have to get to the spaceport and find the Port Boss."

"Shlufski?" he asked. "Oh, yeah, I was gonna hit on that-"

"You'll lead me there," she interrupted, more of a declaration than a request, though hope glistened in her eyes as she moved very close to him. "Won't you?"

His breath grew short, and he wished just then he wasn't burdened down with a small arsenal. Or clothes for that matter. "Hey..." he murmured in a husky voice, "you name it, sweetheart."

She had a feeling she wouldn't have to ask, but it warmed her all over again to hear it in his own words, and she said to him in a voice just above a whisper, "Awesome."

"Ehh..." he replied quietly with half a smile, "I think I might be up for some awesome."

"Well... now that _that's_ settled-" Crunch began, cut short with a little yelp of surprise when an armload of weapons and a heavy bag was dumped on him. "What gives?" But it quickly became obvious that his cousin wanted his arms free to welcome Talwyn _properly_.

But before he could turn halfway round to face her, he saw that she was already on her way across the street. "Come on," she hissed, waving. "There's no telling what happened at the spaceport."

Crunch smirked at his cousin as he heaved a frustrated sigh, "You know what mom 'n dad say."

"Yeah..." he grumbled, "'business before pleasure.'"

The pair flinched as Cronk's metal-cold voice cut between them accusingly. "Just what kinda _pleasure_ are we talkin' 'bout, here?"

"Oh... _nuthin'!_" Slab blurted out, glancing over his shoulder. "Ya know, just... sayin' hey... 'n stuff..."

"It's like havin' robot in-laws," Crunch muttered to the other, who nodded emphatically. Then they cringed again.

Hey now, th-that's goin' a bit _too_ far, you hooligans," Zephyr objected. "We're just protective, that's all."

"Like any good in-laws - _hey_," Cronk chimed in, yelping as his friend gave him an elbow to his flank.

In spite of the morbid drama playing out all around her, the exchange managed to make Talwyn chuckle as they caught up. The good mood was quickly dashed though as she caught sight of the small crowd of citizens up ahead, being herded by the pair of Cragmite soldiers to their uncertain fate. They hugged tight inside the frame of a shop entrance, peering around the edge and watching anxiously. "Aww, man... we gotta do somethin'," Slab muttered. "There's only two of 'em-"

"Hold on, look," Crunch interrupted, pointing as the pair of aliens barked unsavory sounding commands, bringing the small mob to a halt, then they dove into a Galaxy Burger that for whatever reason was still open, and with diners inside.

"Come on," Talwyn said to the others, heading down the sidewalk towards the group. She was appalled to see them standing there absently, as if schoolkids waiting for a teacher, and hissed angrily as they approached, "_Run_, you idiots!" That seemed to bring them to their senses, and finally they began to scamper off. "To the theater!" she added, as she couldn't remember the name right off, turning to face Slab with a headshake. "Are all your people this braindead?"

"Well, hey," he grumbled defensively. "We all ain't freakin' _Apogees_ with war-bot in-laws, ya know. But..." he went on to admit soberly, "this ain't the bright spot o' the galaxy, that's for damn sure."

"Eh... sorry," she told him through a faint smile. "Anyway, let's see about those two in the Gee Burger."

The other diners were hugging the walls in fear as the two bloated Cragmites snarled and blabbered in a disturbing babble, pointing to various items on the displays behind the counter. The unfortunate register girl stuck with dealing with them did her best to keep from screaming to a faint as she poked at the entries which correlated to what she _hoped_ they were ordering. She jumped back with a squeak as a huge fist smashed her register flat, the Cragmite at the end of it glaring at her angrily. "I, uhh..." she began meekly," need that to send the order to the guys in back-" She fell silent as a large ugly looking weapon was aimed at her, and pressed ever closer to her face. "Uhh... I don't think they understand me... _mommie_," she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut, and praying for the slightest chance of a life-saving diversion.

Then her eyes sprang open in shock as a cheerful voice sounded from behind the Cragmites. "I'm sorry, is there a problem with your order?"

The two monsters were just as surprised, turning around to look at the source of the interruption, when they found a stinking cloud of black powder blown in their faces. Coughing, sneezing and blinking back tears, they were completely defenseless. Talwyn swung a seat with all her might into the head of the first Cragmite, Slab took care of the other, and fortunately they went down without a fuss. "Thank heaven, these chairs weren't bolted down," she commented, setting hers aside. Turning to the stunned, white faced register girl, she asked, "Are you all right?"

"No..." she replied faintly as her eyes rolled up and she slumped to the floor.

"Wow, that was amazing!" enthused the suddenly brave manager as he burst in from the kitchen door. As Talwyn gave him a disgusted look, he asked, "You guys want anything? On the house!"

As Crunch began to speak excitedly, Talwyn cut him off. "Rain check. Hey, listen, you need to get out of here. This city is crawling with..." She kicked at the ugly form of the Cragmite beside her. "These guys."

"You mean, like..." he asked nervously, shrinking back from the counter. "_Leave?_"

She rubbed her forehead in dismay. "Well, at _least_ dim the lights, lock up and turn off your signs! Do you want these freaks tromping in here all _night?_"

"Yeah! I mean _no!_" he exclaimed as he scurried out another door.

As Crunch went behind the counter to grab a jalapeno burger, Slab drew near to the girl, shadowed to his chagrin by the pair of robots. "That wen't down good, but why didn'cha... you know." He made a pistol shape with his hand and a cocking motion with his thumb.

"And risk getting one of these poor guys in here shot up?" she said to him with a smirk, though inwardly she was glad to see his old brash, reckless self re-emerging. "Besides, I wanted to know how vulnerable they were."

"Okay, but now, you gotta deal with 'em," he advised her. "They ain't gonna stay down long."

"I know..." she muttered, brushing her fingers across her forehead, then looked to the war-bots hopefully. "Uhm, guys? Think you could... handle this? I have problems with... you know."

"Sure..." drawled out Cronk resignedly as he grabbed a rubbery arm. "Leave the dirty work to yer faithful guardians."

"Th-that's why they pay us the big bolts, ol' buddy," Zephyr informed his friend with a sigh as he heaved his own massive load between stubborn tables. "Lan' sakes... whatever universe these brutes got exiled to must'a had Galaxy Burgers all over the darn place."

"Remind me who _they_ are again when we get done with this little job, chum," Cronk retorted as he made it to the door.

Talwyn found herself staring into a pair of large glistening feloid eyes, and it was difficult to move, to breathe, to do anything, as Slab edged closer to her. The way it seemed that some essence poured into her made her feel like something in her stomach was spinning like mad. She thought briefly of the crowd of curious diners around them, though that didn't really matter. Thoughts of Ratchet came to her, and unfortunately, those did. But in spite of the need to remain faithful to the unspoken promise of his love, something within her ached for the punk ruffian to grab her, envelop her, and... do something, anything, to show her he loved her more, and she knew she wouldn't resist. She felt crushing disappointment as she found herself drawing away and saying faintly, "We'd... better get going..." She hated glimpsing that hurt look on his face, and the girl wondered to herself pensively, 'Would it be so bad if... something happened? To end up with him?'

Of course, the answer was fairly obvious.

* * *

'We have _got_ to get going.'

Sasha felt completely trapped and powerless, her legs kicking to and fro, her tail swishing through the gap in the seat behind her. She thought about lowering her command chair, but knew she would just end up drumming her foot on the floor instead. If not for her furry race, she would be dripping with sweat.

The wait for Talwyn to resolve issues on Odum and hurry back was becoming an intolerable ordeal. If that wasn't bad enough, her period was wreaking havoc on her body with cramps, aches and nausea, made much worse from all the anxiety and anger she had to endure. She resented the hell out of putting the wellbeing of her ship and crew at the mercy of the emotional urges of the young girl. 'Then again... how rational was my decision?' she wondered. It made no sense to risk the Phoenix and her people over the foolish act of the young Apogee, as she threw herself smack in the middle of an invasion by a race notorious for their cruelty. But this wasn't just any girl.

She felt a strange bond with the elfin-eared being, even envied her over the freedom to make nearly suicidal choices, no matter how thoughtless they were. But with love thrown into the equation... that made all the difference. She must care for this youth very much, she realized, the name having slipped her usually sharp memory. 'He must be some guy, to make her set aside a chance to be with Ratchet,' she thought with a thin smile. 'Especially if it could get her killed...'

She hated that last bit of dreadful truth, though the rest of her thoughts caused her to turn her gaze upon her First Officer. He looked quickly back to his displays, causing a rush of warmth to flood through her, though that was chased with confusion and sorrow. She and Busby often found each of them staring at the other, and then looking aside in embarrassment. It was an awkward situation, to put it mildly, and it hurt her deep inside. Not enough time had passed yet, but... would there be enough? 'Forbidden love is sometimes the sweetest,' she found herself thinking bitterly. It wasn't fair that a precious relationship with this man were crushed by a million Naval rules and traditions, or that one day out of the blue, Ratchet would come barelling into her life once again, and needing her help against some monstrous threat neither could fathom. Even as he came dragging along two other love interests.

The thought caused fire to erupt in her bosom, and her claws to dig into the armrest. "How could he be so damned stupid and insensitive!" she growled lowly. Unfortunately, her voice carried across the somber quiet of the bridge, causing everyone to look her way. She faced down, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Ratchet had a way of making everything way too complicated. Only he could show up one day, acting like she was the most important woman in the universe to him after wandering off to play intergalactic hero for years, while luring two other poor girls into the same sorry delusion. It wasn't fair to them either.

But it also wasn't fair that Talwyn had the freedom to go chasing after some young stud met by chance, while she was shackled by smothering Navy protocol and etiquette which kept her from the arms of someone precious to her. 'Knowing my luck, Angela doesn't have any romantic entanglements, giving her a clear path to that ass...inine Lombax,' she fumed silently. Somehow, Ratchet managed to bring a little disaster into everyone's lives.

But then, a salient thought occured to her. If not for Ratchet's foolhardy antics, she would never have been drawn back into active Naval service. Never met Busby, never knew he existed. Never realized what a unique, caring, wonderful man he was. She marveled for a moment at how strange and somehow beautiful the web of Fate could be.

As if he could sense her thoughts, he looked to her. Wishing from the depths of her heart that he wouldn't turn away, this time he didn't. Her eyes ran over the curious form of his pink hairless face, the mop of youthful hair on top, the geeky looking regulation Navy glasses he wore resting on curved ears, his shining green eyes lost in her own. And his lips, soft and fleshy, and probably seductive when pressed to hers. Illicit urges caused a cramp to twist low in her belly, but she didn't care. 'For just a few moments,' she decided, 'I'm going to savor his love for me, and the Navy and Cragmites can go to hell.'

She found herself mouthing his name silently. She had to choke down a laugh as he made a much too obvious response, half-whispering it, though it occured to her that her name might be a bit hard to do the same way. And then abruptly, reality intruded to crush her brief euphoria to pieces.

"Ma'am," called out Lieutenant Boil, "I got a sensor flash along the west horizon. Can't quite make it out, but it could be a probe sniffing around."

"Back to business over pleasure..." Sasha whispered in resignation, then commandingly, she asked, "What do you have, Busby?"

"I can't do any better than that without active sensors," he replied, "and Spook's sends are pretty faint. They might be trying to see if a nervous ship hiding will fire their engines."

"I haeve an anomaleous maess reeding approximately faeve thousand kilometers bayond ze hoerizon, _mademoiselle_," added Raoul from the main screen. "It could be a vassal."

"I was about to _say that_," muttered Busby. "Anyhow, that's what I'd do."

The Phoenix was hovering about one hundred kilometers over the surface of the moon, holding position with little bursts of vector jets. "Just faqing great," Sasha muttered, then made a quick judgment. "Mister Mimo, guide us seven hundred kay, vector sixty four, over to that crater, and drop us below the rim if you can."

"Good call," Busby said to her quietly with a thin smile.

"I have my moments," she replied with a slightly warmer one.

She groaned to herself as the Navigator intruded on her thoughts. "Ma'am, depending on altitude, we'll have to run the jets a lot, or worse case, light the engines. Your call."

"Oh, please..." she whispered faintly. Evidently the crater wasn't as deep as she thought. Couldn't _something_ in this fiasco be easy? "All right... hold same altitude. But if that sensor source gets closer, take her down low. Work with Busby and Raoul-"

"Heh-heh-hey!" cried the Ship's Computer in delight.

"-On what to do," she muttered irritably. "We can't be spotted, or we'll have to make a run for it." And leave Talwyn behind, she knew. But she realized that her tactic might completely cut them off from any other transmission opportunities for a while, depending on the density of the moon's surface and whether Odum had a satellite sensibly placed. She swung up her keyboard and pounded out a quick note. "Lola, pulse this to the Odyssey Beta off of Relay Thirteen, just above the north horizon. Minimum power but point nine nine reception. And be _sure_ to scrub our I.D. codes!"

The Communications Officer jumped at the exclamation, replying loudly, "Yes _ma'am!_"

Sasha waved feebly, murmuring, "Sorry... it's been a rough war."

"Hey, I understand, believe me," the Lieutenant replied, making Sasha grateful for having at least one female on the bridge crew.

"Okay now, guys?" she said to the group. "Unless it's urgent, Busby's active 'til further notice. Captain needs a time out." As the others murmured their assent, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. For a moment, she felt a wave of dizziness and nausea, though it was as much from the Phoenix shifting position in a gravity field and couldn't be helped. But then, she felt a warmth behind her, and sensed compassion, and more. She didn't want to open her eyes and ruin the spell, on the chance that she was wrong and he wasn't there. She would believe he was, and whispered softly, wistfully, "Busby... if only I could... _tell you what I want_..." She she gave a faint, happy sigh as she felt fingers, light, tender, brushing her fur.

On the Odyssey Beta's console, a beep sounded, and on a screen a message popped up, reading, _Please hurry, time's wasting. Keep safe. ~ S_

* * *

There wasn't much conversation on the way to the Spaceport, as Talwyn felt torn in half from the conflicting emotions and desires having a knock-down, drag-out in her heart. And it was obvious that Slab was enduring the same inner turmoil. Fortunately, there was plenty to keep them occupied as they worked around small groups of Cragmite soldiers, and slunk under skimpy cover to avoid detection by roving Cruisers. It wasn't hard to feel like something was stalking them. The one thing Talwyn was grateful for was that the warning sirens were being blasted silent one by one, by Cragmites who were tired of it themselves.

Finally, the Port came into view. But when she caught sight of the Port Authority office, the front torn open like a tin can, she broke into a dead run. "Dammit - _wait!_" Slab hissed in warning, though he wasted not a second as he bolted after her, Crunch close on his heels.

"So much for a tactical approach," Cronk muttered as the pair of warbots clomped after the others.

She had enough sense to head for cover, creeping along storage shacks as the others caught up with her, as the Port had been secured as the main landing point for the Cragmite fleet. Their warships were everywhere, even landing on top of luckless civilian vessels, and alien soldiers were tromping around for some destination or other in the city. Their numbers had thinned enough that opportunities to advance came often, and it wasn't long before they made their way to the battered Authority building.

"Oh... mygosh..." Talwyn gasped in horror. The front of the building was literally torn open, and the inside was demolished. The scent of explosives and burned materials stank in the air, and there was no sign of anyone.

"Ohh, flamin' black Hell..." murmured Zephyr somberly. "Th-this don't look good, not one bit."

Talwyn whimpered anxiously as she crept inside with the others, "Maaan... what could have happ-?"

Everyone froze as the angry gargling-snarling voice of a Cragmite sounded from the darkness further back for a second. They hunkered down, weapons aimed all around, but there was no sign of one. "What the hell's goin'-?" Slab began, choking himself quiet as another burst of the unpleasant gurgling sounded in the dimness.

"Guys, _shh_," Talwyn hissed, echoed by another segment of gutteral noise. The source seemed to come from something jammed into the wall further in. She crept forward, shadowed by the others, and seeing nothing about, grabbed it and worked it free. Turning it over in her hands, even the design seemed monstrous and disturbing. "What the hell is-?" she began, groaning irritably at herself as the same disgusting noises as before spewed from a small speaker at the top.

She found a switch and pushed it just as Slab came close, asking her unfinished question. "What the hell _is_ that thing?"

"A translator," she replied, depositing it in her pouch. "I was afraid it was a trap, but I had to check it out."

"That's what I was thinkin'," Crunch remarked. "Guess... I should'a said somethin'. And you really shouldn't'a-"

"But, where's...?" Talwyn interrupted worriedly, calling in a low voice, "Boss?"

"I, uhh..." Cronk muttered dourly, picking up something metallic from the floor. "Don't think Shlufski is gonna be anywhere around." He shared a clearly painful look with Zephyr.

She wanted to scream when she realized what it was: a military blaster like Cronk's, crushed nearly flat. "Oh, my God... _no_..."

Slab audibly swallowed, doing his best to choke down his own alarm. "That don't mean nuthin'. Shlufski's too smart to let those freaks get the best of 'im!"

In spite of the dire implications of the ruined building and crushed weapon, no doubt his, Talwyn scrambled to think of another possibility than the obvious. The translator came to mind, and she clutched at a thin strand of hope. "No... wait. There was a fight, and it went badly, but they used this." She drew out the translator as if to solidify her conviction. "They wouldn't have had a conversation with a dead man." Slab had to smile at the way his girlfriend thought of robots as equal to a living being.

"Hey, yeah!" Crunch began, though he didn't have a chance to further lighten the mood.

"Y-yeah, but..." cut in Zephyr somberly, 'that just means..."

"_They_ got 'im..." Cronk finished his friend's thought unhappily.

The misery evident in her friend's demeanor caused Talwyn's stomach to knot. They had some experience in Cragmite wars, and it was clear that the monsters were fond of torturing robots. "We're going to rescue him," she declared adamantly, "no matter what. Crunch, you still have those straws, right?"

"Uhh... yeah," he replied, looking into his jacket pocket a moment later to be sure, and the slender plastic tubes wrapped mostly in paper were just protruding.

"Hand 'em out," she told him, then squeezed the roughly shaped grip of the translator. "This should come in handy, too."

"I like the way you think, babe," Slab began, then stopped short as he recalled how Talwyn grew to hate that term of endearment. "I mean..."

"I know what you mean," she told him softly with a gleam in her eye, her reaction making his tummy flutter. Then just like that, it was gone, and she turned for the blasted opening. "Okay guys, let's go find him."

Crunch noticed this and said to his cousin guardedly, "Wow, she's either on or off, ain't she?"

"I think she's been around robots too long," Slab agreed with a snaggletoothed grin.

Both of them froze as Zephyr barked out irritably, "A-and _what_, may I ask, is so wrong with _that?_"

"Nuthin', _nuthin'!_" they replied in loud unison. Talwyn was glad for one more reason to laugh as they followed. She had a feeling there wouldn't be many more chances for a while.

* * *

In spite of the depressed economy of the backwater world, all shipping for the local region of Odum went through Fruma. Stacks of crates littered around the Spaceport made for ample cover, allowing the five insurgents to make their way around fairly easily. But what they saw was disheartening.

Hangars for spaceships had been emptied to be used as stockades, and one poor starliner had been pushed half off the docks, its nose submerged in the waters of the bay. Inside, electric field fences had been set up, and thousands of unfortunate citizens were huddled in the center. It was morbidly quiet, the only sounds coming from crying children. Fortunately for them, the Cragmites just laughed at the signs of misery.

Talwyn's cheeks burned in anger, especially at the thought that Sasha would just leave these poor slobs to this fate! But then, the geeky First Officer's warning manifested in a graphic image; a scorched landscape of demolished, burning buildings under a sooty overcast shroud, and not so much as a fly to hint that life had once flourished there. Maybe, just maybe, he had been right after all, but still, she couldn't stomach such callous disregard for the fate of these people.

Crunch gave voice to her intentions, hefting the tube of a missile launcher. "So, do we blast 'em out?"

"No, dude," Slab told him, pushing the weapon down a bit. "Ya gotta be sneaky, or yer just gonna get a lotta people killed. Didn'cha see Attack of the Fifty Cubit Centerfold?"

"And just _how_ do you know about _that?_" Cronk asked the startled feloids. "Ain't you young'uns a little... err, you know..."

"_Young_ to be seein' a movie of th-that... high level of artistry?" Zephyr finished.

"Uhh..." Slab drawled in an uncertain reply. "School field trip. You know..."

"Anatomy studies," Crunch added quickly, being the slightly more intelligent of the pair.

"Yeah! Science 'n stuff."

"_Guys_," Talwyn cut in with a smirk. "Enough reminiscing about... stuff, and voices _down_, okay?" She wondered if everyone in the universe _but_ her had seen that stupid movie. Not that it might not be fun to watch with Slab...

After the four of them murmured appologetically, Slab cut in with his old bravado, "So... how about I go in and scope out the place?"

"Are you _sure_ you're up to that kinda stuff yet?" his sidekick asked pointedly.

"Uhh..." he began slowly, as it occurred to him that he wasn't entirely certain of his fortitude just yet, at that. "Sssuure I aamm..."

"No, hey, chill for once," Crunch told him. "It's about time I, uh... stood on my own two, right?" He didn't sound any more sure of himself than his cousin.

"Thee _heck_ you will," Cronk declared as Talwyn tried to interrupt. "You moppy haired hooligans need to let a perfessional soldier handle this."

"And that would be _me_," Zephyr stated determinedly over the girl. "W-why, you have trouble findin' yer way to a chargin' station with a guideline leadin' the-"

"_Zip it_," she hissed, pointing to Slab. "_You_ are too tall and reckless and-" She just managed to choke off _adorable_. "_You_ are too tall and inexperienced," she told Crunch. "And _these_ two rattle and squeak too much."

Cronk and Zephyr looked to each other with a sigh as the first rolled his left arm in its shoulder socket. "Well... ya know, these darn joints do get old, and ya ain't given us a decent lube in-"

"You guys stay put here," she interrupted. "No patrols seem to get this close to the water. I'll be right back." With that, she scampered off.

Slab made a grab on empty air, hoping to catch her arm, watching anxiously with the others as she slunk deftly along the rows of boxes towards the wide open doors of the hangar before them. In spite of his worry for the girl he loved, he was very impressed with the smoothness of her movements and skill at hugging the slightest bit of cover. "She's just like a cat," he whispered to himself, and was more determined than ever to steal her away from Ratchet. "Sorry dude, but it's every stud for 'imself."

Talwyn waited around the corner of a stack of crates, watching for the pacing of the Cragmite guards to give her the blind spot she needed to make the open doors. Presently it came, the two guards marching away, and she bolted off, her rubber soled boots landing almost silently as she'd practiced countless times. The one to her left, the nearest one, thought he heard something and peered half over his shoulder with a grunt. She kept her pace and managed to scoot through the doors just as he turned around.

Everyone sunk behind the crates, gasping and shivering, and in the case of the warbots, rattling from the pent up emotions they wrestled with. "I swear, that girl..."Cronk panted. "Much more o' this... and my CPU's gonna overclock."

"Tell me about it," Slab muttered lowly, though as soon as he'd caught his breath, he was back at the edge of the crates, his eyes fixed on the door that Talwyn hid behind. At the first sign of trouble, he told himself that he would risk his life to save hers. "Not gonna pull a Crunch anymore," he whispered. His cousin overheard, frowning, and gave him a sharp punch in the arm.

Talwyn made her way around a running generator, trying to stay in what few shadows there were in the brightly lit hangar. It wasn't much like the landing bay of the Phoenix, but what little semblance there was depressed her. And then there were the prisoners, looking like their lives were at an end, and some of the children crying. It was a heartbreaking sight, and she wanted to cry with them. The humming generator was no doubt powering the fence. One flick of a switch, and they would be free, but there was no way she could think of to get them past the murderous Cragmites. Sadly, they were safer right here, for now.

She had a feeling they might cause trouble, but she had to see if anyone knew anything, and hissed for the closest man's attention. It took a few tries, but he finally caught the sound over the steady drone and rasp of their electronic cage, jumping to his feet excitedly. So did dozens of others, and the commotion caused the mob to begin talking. Another man threw himself into the field, and got thrown back with a jolt for his recklessness. She frantically waved them down, though they couldn't resist getting as close to her as possible. The one she alerted first said to her in a hoarse, excited half-whisper, "Are you here to get us out?"

She withered a bit, telling him, "No, I can't, I'm sorry, but I'm-"

"Turn of that generator!" said another. "We'll take care of ourselves!"

She heaved a sigh, looking to the ceiling for strength from above. "Guys, listen... I'd love to set you all free - you don't know _how bad_ I want to, but you gotta be patient. Look, I'm trying to get something going, but I need to know where they're keeping the Port Boss."

"Who?" the first one asked in bewilderment, and the question bounced around the crowd. "Who is that?"

She gaped at them in disbelief. "You _don't know who-?_" She ran her fingers through her hair to try and calm herself. "Uhh... Shlufski," she told them, unable to think if she'd ever caught the first name. "The guy who runs the freaking _port_." When no one seemed to know anything, she continued desperately, "Look... did you see a group of Cragmites leading a kind of tall robot in a suit anywhere?" When they _still_ drew a blank, she muttered grumpily, "Well, this has been one hell of a downer. Okay..." she went on, hoping to salvage something for her effort. "Are you aware of any place where the bigwig Cragmites seem to gather?"

As they continued to scratch their heads, making Talwyn consider just leaving, a burly saurian in dingy gray-green overalls pushed himself to the front. "You askin' about the Boss?"

"Oh thank heaven!" she exclaimed, and had to catch herself before she touched the fence herself. Evidently one of the port workers, surely he knew something. "Did you see him? Where is he!"

"Yeah, he... uhh..." he muttered looking to his boots as he kicked at the floor, his voice cracking. Talwyn wasn't sure she wanted to hear any more, though she waited as he collected himself. "Th-they... pretty much ripped open the office like a can o' sewer shark, and... he fought 'em. He always was a fighter. But... they drug 'im out by his head... he weren't movin' though... I couldn't do nuthin' but watch..."

Talwyn swallowed a moan with an effort, taking a few breaths to calm herself, though it was still hard to speak. "Where did they go?"

"Ohh... back o' the hangars to the warehouses," he replied with a little more backbone. "I think somethin's goin' on at number thirteen. Hey, listen," he said more excitedly. "You're gonna get 'im outta there, aincha?"

"You're damn right I am," she told him adamantly. "I gottta go, but you guys keep cool-"

She was stunned as one large middle-aged woman with a tremendous beehive hairdo bellowed, "What right do you have to go free while we're stuck-!"

To her relief, the foolish woman was tackled and smothered by a group of them, the rest shushing the crowd who began to react. "Get goin'," the dockworker told her as he helped out with the dogpile. "And best o' luck."

"Thanks, you too," she replied. "And all of you. Just hold on. I'll get you out sometime soon, I promise."

As she dashed for the relative dimnness near the hangar doors, the voice of Brock Steel came to haunt her: _Do not make promises you cannot keep, young Apogee._

"Oh, hush," she muttered to the memory under her breath as she hugged herself against the sheets of metal. "I'd like to see you do any better with this mess."

"She's been gone kinda long, ain't she," Slab remarked as he peered over a crate, more as a comment than a question.

"Miss Talwyn will be back when she's darn good 'n ready, ya young whippersnapper," Cronk retorted. "Criminey... kids under ninety ain't got no patience these days."

"Sh-she's an _Apogee._ She knows what she's doin'... most o' the time," the other warbot added, the last bit under his breath.

"I'm gonna go," Slab told them flatly, causing Crunch's eyes to pop open.

"Na-na-now see here, you hairy rapscallion," Zephyr blathered reprimandingly. "You are _not_-"

"Oh _yes_ he is," Cronk interrupted, watching as Slab ran surprisingly fast for the hangar doors Talwyn had disappeared into, but it seemed that there was a blur of motion coming from the other way.

The feloid gave a yelp of surprise as someone ran into him, practically flipping him as she grabbed his arm and whipped him around in the opposite direction. A moment later, Talwyn practically threw him behind the cover of the crates they were sheltering behind. The two warbots leaned over, saying together, "We _told ya_ so-"

"Shut up," Talwyn snapped irritably, then leaned into the startled Leonida's face. "_I told you to say pu-!_"

"Hey, you were gone-!" he began in a loud rasp.

"So what!" she hissed back.

"I ain't gonna let you-!"

"Yes you are-!"

"No way!"

"_Yes_ way!"

"Not gonna-!"

"_Don't start-!_"

"_I'm-!_"

"_No-!_"

"_You-!_"

The snippets of speech grew even shorter, and began to resemble the whispering match between Bentwood and his wife - assuming it _ was_ his wife anyhow, punctuated with a lot of finger-in-face jabbing. "This is worse than when our dads play ping-pong," Crunch remarked dryly.

"Makin' me dizzy..." Cronk muttered with a headshake, then he gaped in horror.

Slab seized the girl in his arms between sylables, and delivered a ferocious kiss. "Oh lawd... not again... _catch me_..." Cronk whimpered, stiffening and toppling over on his back with a crash.

As Crunch gasped out in alarm, Zephyr whined, "Can't... _I'm comin' too_..." and landed with a loud clatter beside his friend.

"Guys, _you can't be doin' this!_" the poor feloid hissed, then turned his back on them all to keep watch uncomfortably. He did feel that Slab deserved a little quality time with Talwyn, all things considered...

She had never felt anything like this before as Slab pulled her into him. That first kiss was merely a taste in comparison to the delirium that overwhelmed her now. It was so sultry, so intimate, it felt like lovemaking... at least what she knew from lurid dreams. And just like them, she could feel her muscles giving in to the urgent invitation from the feloid, unclenching in that strong, wild, masculine enbrace, melting against him as her heart pounded, her blood racing in her ears. And she kissed him back even more deeply. Something within her consented, and she wispered in her mind, 'Yes, yes... oh, _yes_...'

_NO!_

She gasped in shock as she found herself pushing out of his grasp, blinking in dizzy bewilderment as the kiss broke with a liquid _*smack*_. Thoughts of Ratchet were a part of it, though only a small part. Mostly, it was the reminder that they were in the midst of an invasion from dreadful monsters, and that someone was in desperate trouble. As she stumbled back against the crates, gasping for breath and fighting for control of her body, her thoughts began to piece the tragic reality together again, and she grew outraged at being taken advantage of when she wasn't ready for it. "Why _you-!_" she growled like before, swinging her fist hard at a mop of black hair, and this time the punch found its mark. But the yelp which reached her ears wasn't what she expected, and her eyes popped open in shock. "Crunch? Oh crap, _I'm sorry!_" She began to kneel down to help him, though the youth waved her off, even as he cradled a tender jaw. She rose angrily as Slab enjoyed a chuckle at his cousin's misfortune.

"Gotta watch 'er dude, she's wild - _hey!_" He had to catch her arm as she made to swing for the proper target this time, and he managed to hold her fast, giving her a saucy grin at his victory. "Okay now... punch _me_, and I get another kiss."

"Uhh, just... lemme get outta range first, kay?" Crunch muttered, backpedaling.

Talwyn's eyes burned into his, but beneath the fury, there was a glimmer of tenderness for him, and she gradually relented. But she had to vent, grumbling, "Ohh... you just wait. I am _so_ gonna..."

"Lookin' forward to it, sweetheart," he said to her, though with a smile that was a bit less testosterone laced.

She groaned in half-anger at him, punching him sharply in the arm. "Listen, we have to save the Port Boss. He's at their mercy! Help me get these two up."

"Ohh... yeah, right," he muttered apologetically, doing his best to heave Cronk to his feet.

"Get yer hands off me, you... child molester," the old warbot mumbled feebly, causing Slab and Crunch to blink at each other in alarm, and Talwyn to burst out laughing.

"_Dude_..." Crunch said to his cousin advisedly as he struggled with Zephyr. "You gotta make peace with these guys. They're like... ya know, oldies. With war weapons!"

"I'll... have a talk with them later," she assured the feloids as she helped out.

"Hope so," Slab murmured uncertainly, "or else this romance ain't goin' nowhere."

"Th-that's _exactly_ where it's goin'," stammered Zephyr, causing Talwyn to laugh all over again.

* * *

They peered over a low stack of unknown cargo at a pair of Cragmite guards standing idly beside the wide open doorway in the middle face of Warehouse 13, looking bored, their massive weapons poised on flabby hips. Talwyn whispered grumpily, "Darn it, I thought they might be on patrol like the others."

"So... wha' do we do?" asked Cronk. "Go in with blasters a, uhm... blastin'?"

"Yeah! Just like when Capt'n Pex took on..." Zephyr began, but trailed off as Talwyn waved him silent.

"_Please_ don't bring up that movie again," she muttered with a headshake. It was uncanny how much the two warbots were beginning to sound like the racer punks. Reaching into her pouch, she went on, "No, let's see if our new _friend_ here can give us an opening." Bringing the translator to her lips as she hugged herself to the low wall of crates, she said into it, "You two!" As the pair of guards snapped to something resembling attention, then looked around in confusion, she continued, "Yes, _you!_ Go around to the back and, uhm... check out a pile of trash! I thought I saw something! Now _move!_"

As they looked to each other and began to wander off, Cronk remarked dryly, "Gee, _that_ sure sounded authoritative."

"Hey, I forgot to think of something ahead of time," Talwyn protested, returning the unit to her pouch. "And, ya know, it's kind of hard to think with you four bickering non stop."

"Well, w-we might _not_ if Lover Boarder here," Zephyr retorted, jerking his thumb at Slab, "would learn to keep his lips to his _ah oh_..."

"Oh yeah?" he began hotly, then blinked in confusion. "Uhh... hold on, wha'dya mean, _ah oh?_" He peered over the warbot's shoulder as his attention had been drawn to the warehouse.

"Don't see our Craggymite chums anywhere," Cronk muttered as he stood on his toes to look over the top of the pile.

Crunch joined him as the warbot scooted aside, looking around nervously. "Mmmmmaybe... they ran around to the back?"

"Didn't look like they were in any hurry to me," Slab commented as he rubbed shoulders with his cousin, and being taller, stood flat footed.

Crunch looked to his side, then his eyes widened in concern. "Uh... hey, what happened to the bot dudes?"

Slab looked down to where Zephyr's rear end should be, muttering worriedly, "Uhh... Tal, do they do stuff like that when we're about to be-" He choked back an obscenity as a foot came down beside him, one that looked like it belonged to something in-between a duck and a sea monster.

Talwyn looked up in alarm as the Cragmites pounced from either side, grabbing the two feloids by the throats and squeezing unmercifully. Their eyes mashed shut and they thrashed around frantically, as cat folk hated being choked, but they could do nothing to break free. She backed away, caught off guard and frozen for a moment with indecision. When the one holding Slab noticed her, and that she was armed, he threw the feloid into her hard, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

Just then a pair of metallic forms appeared atop the crates, and two heavy blasters smashed down on the heads of the unsuspecting Cragmites. Crunch tumbled to the ground, holding his throat and gagging, followed a moment later by the bodies of the massive alien soldiers. "Thanks for the _warning_, guys," Talwyn grumbled as she cradled the male she cared for to her, trying to help him recover, even though he didn't really need it. "Are you all right?" they asked together, as she stroked his thick black mane back from his face in a motherly way. As his eyes settled in hers, his nerves calmed down and he began to catch his breath, and he felt like he was with his guardian angel.

"I'm okay," Crunch squawked in a thin, choked, childish sounding voice, then saw who Talwyn was talking to, and how, muttering sarcastically, "Just got a crushed throat, that's all..."

"Sorry about the surprise," Cronk said to them guardedly as he and Zephyr crept back down to the dock flooring.

"But w-we didn't have much chance to give you all a heads up when we realized what those two-" began Zephyr, though Talwyn cut him off.

"Just drop me a clue next time, okay?" she asked with a smirk, then looked pensively to the repugnant bodies of the Cragmites. "Uhm... could you two..."

The warbots looked to each other with a sigh. "She acts like we ain't got a conscience between us, sometimes," muttered Cronk, then looked in dismay at the expression on Talwyn's face. "I mean... _I didn't mean-_"

His friend banged him in the arm. "Nuh-na-now, look what'cha done did-"

"Hey..." Talwyn interrupted, looking away unhappily. "I'm sorry, it's just... I have problems with this, and... you know, you two have been through it..."

"We'll take care of 'em," Slab told her in a still slightly rough voice.

Crunch blinked up at his friend, blurting out, "We _will?_"

"Yeah," he replied, rubbing a tender throat, though he didn't sound too certain. "We gotta... get used to this kinda stuff, like these two old timers. At least, I do." He gave Cronk a thin smile, bumping him in the arm. "Anyhow, let's get this on so we can get 'Ski the heck outta here."

The two warbots gave each other an understanding look, and Zephyr declared, "Hey, uhh... w-we'll take the big one. No sense lettin' you two youngsters do all the work. Ya might get the impression we're kinda lazy. One of us, anyhow." He smirked up to his taller friend.

Cronk sighed as he clopped over to grab one arm of the monsters, "There ya go with them put-downs o' yours. Why, I'll have you know that I'm a medal winnin' marathoner."

"Runnin' to the kitchen don't count," Zephyr remarked with a smirk, and everyone enjoyed a guarded laugh.

Talwyn watched the foursome as they dragged their unconscious victims towards the edge of the docks, and had a feeling she might not have to give much of a talk to the warbots, if at all.

* * *

The heads of the five insurgents popped up over another row of crates as they surveyed the area. They all gasped in shock at what they saw, each putting a hand over the mouth of another to stifle it.

Commander Haghharrer roared with disgusting laughter which echoed throughout the warehouse, as he tortured the unfortunate robot. Shlufski was literally crucified to a work table, large bolts driven through his hands and feet, and completely unable to resist. His torso plates were open, exposing all of his internal components as the Commander's Second jabbed an electrical probe among the robot's memory boards. Every few seconds, sparks would fly, and some past event would manifest in the mind of the poor robot at random, and would play itself out as if real.

He whimpered, "Please... _stop it_-"

*_ZAP!_*

"A surprise bierthday party... for me? I cannot believe you hooligans..." he began, rolling his eyes sarcastically, then they opened in astonishment. "This _has_ to be a Courtney Gears look alike! My wife would kill me if she knew!"

The Cragmites roared with laughter as another translator rendered Shlufki's speech in the unsavory gutteral tongue of the aliens. Before the robot could protest, the Second jabbed the probe on another spot on the board.

*_ZAP!_*

Shlufski began humming what seemed to be a happy, random kind of tune, the servos in his arms trying to work. "Oooh... a clean robot is a happy robot- _gah!_" He abruptly stopped, looking around angrily. "Get out of the shower with that faqing camera! I swear I'll write you all up for a year of kay-pee duty, you blasted-!"

Commander Haghharrer snorted out a laugh, slapping the Second on his bumpy, toad-like shoulder. As the officer caught his breath, he poked at another place on the board.

*_ZAP!_*

He gazed outward as if in shock for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet and pained. "Commander? You... must wake up. I don't know what all this liquid is, and... this flesh... I have no idea what the parts are, or where they go. This isn't... death, is it?" His voice broke, and he practically sobbed, "You... _cannot be_..."

"Listen to him, crying like that" Haghharrer bellowed cruelly. "They must be _lovers!_" The two aliens nearly doubled over with laughter, which was rather hard for a being of the Commander's immense girth.

Cronk looked down in sorrow, muttering bitterly, "Ain't... nothin' more cruel in this universe than... a god danged Craggymite." It was the first time any of them had heard him come so close to using obscenities.

Talwyn was ready to cry herself, whispering, "That poor man... we have to _do_ something!"

"_P... please_," wept the unfortunate prisoner, "for pity's sake... stop this! Have you not a shread of decency?"

"We do not _do decency_," retorted the Commander mockingly. "We do _THIS!_" He drove the hand of the officer holding the probe into the robot's chest, though this time he cried out in agony.

Slab began to throw himself over the crates to attack the aliens, so angry that his mind burned with notions of cruel, bloody murder. Fortunately the others managed to drag him back behind their cover. "Slab!" hissed his cousin. "Are you crazy?"

"Ain't nothin' much more dangerous in the universe either, young'un ," Zephyr warned him. "Throwin' yerself at 'em head on... wh-why, that's just gonna get you killed!"

All the past frictions with the grumpy Port Boss were swept away by a flood of compassion for the helpless victim of such cruel torture, and furious outrage. "Can't just sit here like cowards!" he growled in a savage, almost animal way that made Talwyn blink. "We gotta do somethin'!"

"Okay, okay..." she murmured, stroking his shoulder gently. "But we need a plan. Anyone got something?"

"W-well," Zephyr began, "I was thinkin' if we had some chicken wire, a set o' silverware, a few roman candles, a knife sharpener a-and some bubble gum..."

Talwyn shook her head in dismay, muttering, "_Why_ did I ask...?"

As Crunch gaped at the two warbots piecing together a most unlikely scheme, Slab was looking over the inside of the warehouse, at its layout, and where certain control systems were located. "Guys," he said presently, "I got an idea." While such a remark normally made Crunch's stomach lurch, this time it was music to his ears.

Shlufski wanted to die. The anguish of this horrible ordeal was unbearable. He had lost all hope. The small bit of faith in the Solanan Navy ship, that some bold assault was coming to smash the Cragmite menace, had perished when the monsters began abusing him. It was painfully clear that his life was over. He thought of shutting down his core himself, causing his demise, and it wasn't like it might happen anyway, as damaged as his components were. And he hated the thought of his misery providing the Cragmites with any more "entertainment."

He had a small ace up his sleeve, literally, in a secluded tube up his left arm. But it seemed worthless to him now. He thought it would be best to just randomize it into uselessness, as he wouldn't have a chance to take advantage of it.

But something stayed his hand on both prospects. 'Let's let this cruel hand Fate dealt me play out,' he thought to himself. 'Who knows? There might yet be some surprises.'

"I want to find a memory that is truly embarrassing!" laughed the Commander in the face of the miserable Port Boss. "What is your most humiliating memory? Did you kiss that bloody mess of a Commander _goodbye?_" A mocking laugh died in his throat as an unexpected sound came to him, and looking around, he saw that the doors of the warehouse were closing. "Ehh? Who is doing that!"

"Me! Fat, ugly 'n stoopid! I'm here to rain on yer parade!"

Everyone looked up to an overhead walkway, and Talwyn groaned, clutching her pistol's grip in alarm. "Slab, what the hell are you doing!" she hissed.

"Sorry babe, change o' plans," he said to himself. "Looks like some of 'em got inside." He had been standing there, clutching a rope in one hand, but now, he was swinging down on it, right at the Cragmite Commander. His boots connected with the monster's bloated head as it was raising a weapon to aim at him, but the collision sent it tumbling over on top of his assistant. The feloid sailed across the warehouse to land awkwardly but upright on a stack of crates. "Catch me if ya can, sea slugs!" he shouted over his shoulder, ducking as a blaster bolt just missed his head by inches. "Woah, you shoot like girls!" he laughed as the hoard set off in pursuit of him.

At first, Shlufski couldn't quite make sense of what was going on around him, but as the cycles passed and his agitated systems began to settle back to nominal from the break in the torture, and he could sense it all clearly, he had to laugh. "Will wonders ever cease? That scalawag, busting in here to help _me?_" he asked himself incredulously. "Well... I'm glad I decided to stick around after all!"

The Second gaped in shock as Commander Haghharrer planted his hand in the creature's face to prop himself up. "Stop that living rug, you sea larvae! There is only one of them!" And then, he began to wonder about that and used the unfortunate assistant's body to bring himself upright. "What are you doing, lying around!" he bellowed at the dazed, half-squashed lieutenant. "_THERE IS KILLING TO BE DONE!_"

Crunch watched his cousin in admiration as he led the Cragmite guards on a merry chase. "Slab, dude... I think you're really back!" He ducked as a bolt sizzled the air just over his head. "Woah, and I think I'm up!" He drew out a straw and blew it into the ugly faces of a pair of Cragmites as they lunged around the crate for him. The straw covering full of pepper flew off and burst in their faces. As they coughed and wheezed in the acrid cloud, he fired at them with the blaster Talwyn had given him. He could hardly bear to watch, squinting at the sight as the energy beams seared their heads, and they tumbled to the floor lifelessly. "Man... am I ever gonna get used to this? _Guess I'll have to!_" he yelped as more blasts came his way, scorching the edges of crates he was hiding behind. "Hey, I thought there were only four or five o' those freaks in here... sounds like a lot more." As if to emphasize the threat they were facing, a nearby window shattered. "Slab, Talwyn..." he whimpered, "I sure hope you guys got a Plan B. Or I'm afraid we're gonna be joinin' Shlufski on that table!"

Cronk and Zephyr made their way around a large pile of crates to ambush a pair of guards closing in on Crunch's location. The Cragmites noticed they had been spotted, and as the warbots raised their weapons and began to fire, they were caught off guard by a sight they had forgotten a small lifetime ago. "Well, dag nab it!" Cronk exclaimed.

Slab was growing tired of being chased and unslung a large tube from his shoulder. "You look pretty butch," he said to it as he leveled it at a pair of the brutes. "Let's see what you do!" The Cragmites gaped in shock at the suddenly brave feloid, cringing as the big-tubed weapon fired. It wasn't quite what he expected, but was gratified by the sight of a wide glob of fluorescent green which slammed into them and stuck them fast to a wall of crates. "Weh-he-he-hell! he laughed. "I'm likin' this - _hey!_" He shouted in consternation as the trapped guards faded into a collection of glowing orbs which flitted through the adhesive mass, then across the center of the warehouse like a swarm of ghostly tennis balls. "That's no freakin' fair!"

"Dammit, I forgot they could do that!" Talwyn grumbled as she fired at the transparent cloud, yelping as bolts of energy swept towards her, and she realized what the Cragmites were doing. "Guys, watch it!" she shouted. "They got us shooting at each other!"

"Oh, crap," Slab spat out, then backpedaled as one of the glowing orb clouds settled in front of him and became an angry looking Cragmite. "Oh, _crap_..."

Cronk and Zephyr found themselves in the same fix, as two of the guards materialized in front of them. "Straws!" Zephyr said brightly, producing his.

"Oh yeah!" Cronk exclaimed, whipping his out as well at the cringing alien troops, then the two huffed and puffed on them. And puffed. Unfortunately, nothing happened. "Oh, boogers," Cronk muttered, looking aside. "Forgot... no lungs." He gaped up at the Cragmite towering over him in terror, giving an elderly yelp as the monster seized him and brought him up to bite his head off. The bulbous monster blinked in shock as his rows of fangs jarred off of an unexpected barrier. Cronk whimpered as he held his arms up in a "touchdown" shape as firmly as he could to block those sharkish jaws. "Bolts, please... if you'er ever gonna hold fast, _now's the time!_"

Zephyr yalped himself as his own monster leaned forward and bit for his head, the fangs just scraping off of his headplate. "Uhh... hold on, ol' buddy, be right back with reinforcements! Or at least, _refreshments!_" He then wheeled around, wailing and waving his arms in the air as he dashed off.

Cronk shouted after him, "Tarnation chum, runnin' around all crazy like that is what got Willy blasted!"

"This ain't no time to criticize a desperate tactical retreat!" Zephyr yelled over his shoulder, chased by blaster fire.

"Be right back with _refreshments_, he says..." Cronk groaned as he struggled to spread those deadly jaws apart, the perplexed Cramite's eyes bugging open from the stress. "He can joke... he's not lookin' down the maw of a... livin' garbage disposal!"

"What a damn fuster cluck!" Talwyn groaned as she faced back and forth between the Cragmites threatening Slab and Cronk, trying to at least distract them with blaster fire as she edged to the table holding the incapacitated Port Boss. She cast a look over her shoulder, then regretted it, gasping in horror at the dreadful sight. "Shlufski! Are you all right? _Please, say-!_"

"I'm still here, lass... in a manner of speaking," he said over her outcry as loudly as he could. "I just wish you would have waited until you had this place secured."

"I had to see if you were all right," she said, and the look of concern in her eyes melted his digital heart. She looked around as a suspended crane started up, its arm whipping around in a circle as it began to orbit around the interior of the warehouse, occasionally knocking over piles of crates. "_Now_ what is Slab up to?" she wondered, but no, he was still having a shootout with his group of Cragmites.

"How many are with you?" Shlufski asked her.

"Uhm..." she began pensively, knowing what his response would be. "Four."

He swore under his breath, his head dropping to the table in dismay. Knowing that Slab was one of them, he could guess what a motley assortment this bunch was. "Girl, forget me and get out of here. These are the Commander's best troops. You'll just get everyone killed!"

"Not without you!" she told him adamantly.

"Damn, stubborn..." he muttered. "You Apogees would never listen to anyone. Well, at least get away from this table. I'm a sitting duck out here." His eyes grew wide as he spotted something, and he exclaimed, "For that matter, _look out!_"

She faced where he was looking, and saw a huge Cragmite a short ways off taking a bead on her. Out of reflex, she whipped a grenade from her pouch and threw it into the mouth of the creature, ducking for cover. It blinked in surprise, making a childish "Ah-oh" sound a moment before the grenade went off. The top portion of the being exploded in a disgusting spray of what looked like globs of crude oil mixed with whale flesh, and smelled even worse. "Gross," she muttered distastefully as she came from behind her cover, then yelled out, "All right, you freaks of nature! I killed your Commander! Now surrender!"

"Err... lass," Shlufski said in an ominous tone, "that _wasn't_ the Commander."

Her hair tried to stand on end, and her tail hugged itself to her leg as the _real_ Commander came into view from around a tall stack of crates, dragging itself toward her, its belly scraping the ground on legs too short to raise its massive bulk. She had completely misjudged him from the view outside. It was wounded, signs of shrapnel blasted into its chest and chin, and a deep wound in its throat... _and it was still walking like that?_ What would it take to kill it!

Commander Haghharrer chuckled and gurgled at her in a revolting way, the dreadful look of glee on his face hintiing at much nastier things he wanted to do with her than done to the robot. As if reading her mind, he uttered some flatulent noise at her, translated by the device on a chain around his neck. "So, puny girl thing... did you enjoy watching me have fun with your friend, here? I can hardly wait to start having fun with _you_."

Talwyn meekly stepped backwards as the Cragmite edged closer, her eyes frozen in terror on that hideous, wicked, slug-like face. "Get out of here!" Shlufski yelled shrilly. "Stupid girl, _save yoursel-!_"

"_SHUT UP!_" the Cragmite bellowed, slapping a massive paw hard across the face of the robot. "I want to honor this tiny warrior who is braver than this entire planet, and who was strong enough to kill my Second in one swing. How can I do that if she runs away!"

The outcry reached the ears of the others, and seeing the peril Talwyn was in, began to echo Shlufski's advice as they shouted for her to run, frantically trying to get her attention.

She backed away fearfully, training what now seemed like a harmless toy on the immense monster before her. And considering the Commander was the size of a small blimp, she wasn't sure it would do more than amuse him. Everyone was pinned down, unable to help her. She couldn't leave, but she couldn't think either, helpless to do anything but stare at that gruesome face of Death incarnate as it came ever closer. "Guys... if anyone has any idea how to get us out of this alive, _I'm open to suggestions!_"

*NEW MATERIAL*

As Cronk struggled to get out of the maw of the Cragmite who had pounced him, fearing his arm joints were about to fail, there was the sound of scraping overhead. A second later, the crates above them were toppled by the crane making its random way around the warehouse, crushing the head of the monster holding him. One or two landed on him as well, and his visual sensors flickered briefly, but he managed to remain conscious. Hauling himself out from under the pile and wobbling for a second, he mumbled, "Well, that's... one way to do it... _oh, crap!_" The shouts of the others came to him, and he recalled how dire Talwyn's situation was. He grabbed his blaster, and coming around the pile of toppled crates, began firing at the rear of the immense Cragmite threatening her. "Leave 'er alone, you underinflated blimp!" It was impossible to miss him, even from across the warehouse, fire splashing across the tail of the beast.

"_STOP THAT!_" he bellowed, grabbing a crate with his tail, and without looking threw it with uncanny aim right at the warbot. Cronk had to hobble out of the way as the crate sailed through the spot where he'd been standing. "Can't you see I'm getting acquainted with your friend?"

"Oh, faqin' hell," he muttered, "I need help... better save the others!"

Slab was huddled behind a pile of crates as a pair of Cragmites drew closer. He wondered if he waited until they were right in front of him, that he could squeeze off a pair of headshots before they got him. "These guys won't go down any other way, looks like-" he began, then caught sight of the crane swinging towards them and got an idea.

They stopped in their tracks, blinking in surprise as the feloid jumped from behind his cover, then forming wiggling antlers at his ears with his hands, stuck his tongue out at them, making rude, childish noises. Swelling in outrage, the two Cragmites began to raise their weapons when the crane swung into them, smashing their heads against the wall of crates beside them. A smear of garish green-purple blood marked the trail of the crane's passing, the bodies dropping at the last of it. Slab ran up and shot the body of one that didn't seem quite dead, growling, "That's for Shlufski, you assholes!"

Cronk gaped at the fury of the racer as he ambled up, muttering, "Well.. guess you didn't need any help after all."

"Could'a used it earlier," he panted. "Cummon, we gotta save Talwyn!"

The warbot shook his head. "'Fraid it's gonna take all of us to bring down that big guy, kid." He bumped his arm, pointing down the row of crates.

Crunch gave a terrified cry as the two Cragmite guards pounced him from around his cover, and he dropped his weapons in his anxious struggle to get free. One grabbed him by the chest with one hand in a painful grasp, the other closing around his throat, both of them bellowing in cruel laughter. He kicked and thrashed around frantically, his mind lost in a fit of terror, as drowning or being strangled was his worst nightmare. As his eyes began to roll back in their sockets, he just caught sight of a flash of black against the girdered ceiling.

Slab wrapped his arms around the startled Cragmite, its own eyes bulging as the feloid squeezed its rubbery throat with all his might. It dropped Crunch, forgotten as it gagged, stumbling backwards. "How do _you_ like it, bastard!" Slab yelled into the side of its head.

As his companion drew a long, sword-like knife to cut the feloid attacker off, he gave a throaty yelp as blaster fire burned into his skull. "Oh _no_ ya don't!" Cronk shouted, then as the Cragmite toppled over on its back, dropped to the side of the fallen racer. "You all right, kid?"

Fighting through a choking fit, he hacked out, "Yeah, just gimme a..." Then he noticed a struggle was still going on, and looking up, screamed the name of his cousin.

There was blood in Slab's hair as the Cragmite clawed at him frantically, doing everything he could to remove the pest choking off his windpipe. It gaped in shock as the other Leonid jumped on him, driving the other's huge knife deep in his chest. The two feloids dropped hard with the monster, rolling away and panting as the Cragmite struggled a bit more, then lay still. "Thanks, dude..." Slab gasped as he got to his feet. "I owe ya big time for that."

"Ehh... my way was faster," Crunch replied, then glared at the fallen alien who had been choking him with such wicked glee. "And way more satisfying."

"Come on you two, we can backslap when we win this shindig," Cronk told them, bumping their arms. "We stil got one more to rescue."

"I-I-I ain't gonna end up like Willy, I just _ain't_," Zephyr muttered as he hugged himself against a stack of crates. "I been around way to long for that. But... sure got quiet around here all of a sudden. _Too_ quiet." And to be sure, the only sounds discernable were the blathering of the Cragmite Commander, and the whirring of the crane blindly making its way around the warehouse, occasionally toppling cargo as it went. Peeking over the top of the crates, he managed to give a squeak of alarm as a Cragmite bit him on the end of his bill-like head, pulling him from behind his cover. As his friend began to blubber with laughter at the sight of the warbot flailing around at the end of his companion's bite, both of them stopped short as Zephyr had the presence of mind to begin shooting into the belly of the one who had him. It dropped the warbot and stumbled backwards into a pile of crates, but before the other could react, he found himself being shot at from the other direction.

"Keep it up, you two!" Cronk ordered, holding the trigger down on his own blaster, and clomped up to help his friend out. He growled in dismay as the second Cragmite disintegrated into a cloud of energy orbs and began to flit off. "Keep that thing in sight!" he shouted. "When it recom... bobulates, blast it, or it'll mean trouble!"

"Thanks for the help, ol' buddy," Zephyr told the other as he came clanking over. "But a-as you see, I had things completely under control!"

"Yeah, I caught you makin' out with that Craggymite," Cronk retorted, grinning, "but I don't think he was quite yer type."

"Na-now, whatever keeps my head bolted on is what counts-" he began, then pointed. "Oh Blarg poop, he's at the door controls!"

"Wh... why are you doing this!" Talwyn shouted up at the Commander, hoping to delay what she feared was the inevitable, oblivious as to how far the tables had turned.

"For the love of heaven..." whimpered Shlufski feebly, sounding almost drained of power, "quit talking and run."

It blinked at her, then bellowed with laughter. "You seriously do not _know?_ And I thought you might be someone with brains. Now I see that you are just another female!" She bristled at the derisive remark, but before she could muster up anything in response, he went on, "Living is all about fighting, and winning, and taking from those weaker than you are! You kill and eat things weaker than you are to live, do you not? Of course you do! And we fight, hoping someday to find an enemy who will be strong enough to fight us head on! Not hide behind some stupid secret weapon to do the winning for them!"

She realized that the Commander was talking about the Dimensionator. While she wished with all her heart that Ratchet would use it to appear before her and save her from this monster, nothing came of that desire. However, she did catch sight of a movement overhead. A small feminine hand appeared over the walkway above her and was pointing down frantically, just behind a spot the Commander had slithered through. And just at that point on the walkway was a generator. Putting two and two together, she realized what their intent was, but... could they possibly have the strength to heave that over the side?

Praying she had a strong friend with her, she stepped forward angrily, shouting, "That's the biggest bunch of Blarg crap I ever heard! You people are _so_ stupid, you haven't learned a _thing_ from your own history!" To her amazement, the immense Cragmite was actually flabbergasted at her tirade, edging backward. She laid it on even thicker and louder. "Yeah, you're so _strong_, you got your squishy _butts_ handed to you every time you attacked the other groups in Polaris! Or are you so deluded you actually think you ruled the universe before you got banished to that pocket dimension no one ever even heard of 'til _you_ nastied it up! _Huh?_ And you know what's even funnier? You guys were swept away like a bunch of fat dust bunnies by one lone Lombax wearing a _hat!_" She glanced upward; just a few more inches, but whoever was lifting that generator seemed to be fighting a losing battle with gravity. Would this work? She had no choice but to go through with it to the bitter end. "You're nothing but a bunch of smelly! Nasty! Fat! Brain Dead! No good! Rotten!" She peeked upwards once more, but it seemed unwilling to teeter over the railing. She was running out of insults to fling at him; it was now or never. If they couldn't manage it, she would have to start shooting. "_LOSERS!_" she cried, and the Commander flinched back to the perfect spot. And _still_ the generator refused to drop. 'Oh, crapping perfect,' she muttered inwardly, squeezing the grip of her pistol.

The Commander stood their blinking for a moment, stupefied, but then he reared back, roaring with disgusting laughter. "Now _THAT_ was a speech worthy of our dead and dusty emperors!"

"Greaat..." Talwyn muttered nervously, "bonus points for sounding as dumb as a Cragmite. That'll make some epitaph."

He ducked as the crane swung through the air in its mindless progress, barely missing his head, and Talwyn's heart sank. Would _anything_ go their way tonight? She cringed as he leaned forward menacingly, making her swallow in terror. "Now, stop talking me to death and do something brave to make your last moments in this universe _WORTH A SHIT!_" They both looked up at the sound of grinding metal overhead. "Now what the hell is - _PODDY!_" he cried, just before the generator smashed into his head, followed by a squealing figure of tawny fur and skimpy violet clothing. And she couldn't believe it.

Talwyn gasped as the girl reached out, trying to catch herself but landed badly, and hard on the metal case of the generator, falling roughly with a cry to the other side. She ran around the Cragmite's bulk to the side of the stricken girl as she tried to get up, the one who had been at The Bunker with Crunch. "Are you all right-?" she began, then saw a trembling hand being held out, a finger bent at a disturbing angle.

Tears streamed down the girl's cheeks from obvious pain, though hopefully as much from the fall as this. "Owww, this... really hurts..." she whimpered.

"Ohhh... gosh, hold on." She had some medical knowledge and hoped for the best as she cradled the hand gently in her own. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Heather-" she got out, just before Talwyn snapped the finger back into place. She cried out and jerked her hand back, facing away as fresh tears poured forth for a moment and she sniffed loudly.

Talwyn heaved a sympathetic sigh, hating her method, but she wasn't sure the girl would take it well. "I'm sorry, but... I thought it would be better to catch you off guard. It was just disjointed. It should feel a little better now... does it?"

"Yeah..." she whimpered, though she stopped crying, working her quivering fingers gingerly. "Th... thank you."

Talwyn brushed over her tawny arm softly, the light brown-on-gold stripes along it reminding her unhappily of a young Angela Cross, or a Lombax girl. "Uhm... no, listen, thank you. That was a really brave thing to do. You saved my life. But how did you...?" Her voice trailed off as her curiosity over the girl's ability to hoist a massive generator was overshadowed with the dire recollection that her life wasn't the only one in jeopardy. "Oh hell... get away from this thing in case it's not dead. Uhm... help that robot if he needs it, but if something comes along, hide. Got it? I'll be right back." Not waiting for a reply, she dashed off towards the sounds of battle on the far end of the warehouse.

Heather waved slightly, wide eyed, wondering if she should be worried. Hadn't the others pretty much taken care of the Cragmites? She crept nervously forward to the table holding the robot, though facing away, she couldn't see what was wrong with it. "Uhm.. hello? Are you all righ-?" she began, then when she got a glimpse of him, she gasped in shock, squeezing her eyes shut, and danced around the corner of a nearby pile of crates. "I think I'll just hide!" she squeaked.

Shlufski's greeting faltered in his electronic throat, and he lay his head back down tiredly. "Well... of all the times I failed to impress a lady, _this_ one has to be the most embarrassing."

They killed the guard trying to open the doors, but not before he managed to activate the one he was at. Cronk grabbed Slab by the arm, Zephyr did the same with Crunch. They separated and hid behind stacks of cargo on either side of a wide open path leading to the rising door. As the Cragmites poured in, looking around for signs of trouble, the ones in front were rudely surprised as a rocket screamed into them and exploded, sending several of them flying and reducing the first few to a spray of disgusting globs. "Wow... this thing packs a punch!" Crunch exclaimed as he admired the self-reloading tube.

"Y-yeah, fine shootin' there, kid," Zephyr remarked dryly as he fired on the ones brave or stupid enough to enter the door - and they were that stupid. "I just hope that blast don't bring a whole hassle o' those things down on us."

"Oh... yeah, right, sorry," he mumbled as he slung it, and joined Zephyr's blaster fire with his own.

"Oh, don't worry 'bout it, son," Cronk told him across the aisle as he tracked a cloud of glowing orbs. "These overgrown sea-slug... bird things ain't too much trouble, once they stop pullin' crap like this. Besides, Zephyr once got a whole battalion o' Tyhrranoids mad at us when he accidentally burned down their mess hall tryin' to microwave some popcorn!"

"Hey now," Zephyr protested, "I-I-I couldn't make heads or tails outta those dadgumed controls. Besides, that ain't half as bad as when _Cronk_ here got a whole dang Blarg base after us fer blowin' up their holovid theater!"

"Hey, I thought it was their headquarters," he snapped, blasting his target when it materialized.

"Hee-hee-hyeah..." Zephyr chuckled, "a _headquarters_ with neon lights and movie posters all over the front!"

Slab had to laugh at the banter, in spite of the fix they were in. "Sounds like you two been through a few scrapes together."

The two warbots shared a brief grin between shots, and Cronk drawled, "Ehh... I guess you could say we go back a ways. Anyhow, we gotta hurry up and finish these yahoos off. We still gotta rescue-"

"Less talk, more shooting, guys!" came a familiar voice from behind them, followed by blaster fire.

"_Miss Talwyn!_" the warbots said more or less together as she joined Cronk's side, getting as close to Slab as she could.

"It's great to see you guys too," she said with a smile. It faded quickly and she gave a hiss of alarm when she saw blood in his mane. "Oh _gosh_, are you all right?"

"Ehh, it's just a scratch. Or five," he added under his breath, smiling at the concern from the lovely adventurer.

Zephyr blinked as a grenade went off, looking to Talwyn as she tossed another in the doorway. "Err... M-Miss Talwyn, are you _sure_ you wanna be makin' a ruckus like that? More'n likely, a whole shipload o' those pesky varmints will come a runnin'-"

"Let 'em!" she interrupted over the explosions. "We're leaving out the side while their attention is on the warehouse. You guys hold 'em off 'til I call. Slab, come with me. We gotta get Shlufski outta here."

"Lead the way, babe. I'll follow you _anywhere_," he said as he trailed after, admiring the curves of her figure, her sinuous tail, and the smile she flashed him. They made their way down a safer path out of the line of fire, but Slab's enthusiasm vanished when they rounded the still form of the hulking Commander and he got a good look at the unfortunate Port Boss. He looked utterly dead. "Oh _crap!_" he practically sobbed. "Ski, don't tell me we're too late-!"

"Ease up, ya hooligan," he began gruffly if weakly, lifting his head, though he gave the feloid the robot equivalent of a thin smile. "Nice to know I'm still _popular_ with you two."

"How are you holding up?" Talwyn asked, smiling briefly.

"Ohh... can't say I've had _worse_," he admitted lightheartedly, "but if ya button me up..."

"Yeah, but... _dude_," Slab said in a tight voice, "you look like you got run over! By a Cruiser! _A lot!_"

"_Thank_ you for that flattering assessment," he muttered. "Now, could ya quit gawking and get me off o' this thing? I've had about enough o' Cragmite... _hospitality_."

"Sure, hold on," Talwyn said, grabbing a wrench from a nearby tool kit, undoubtedly the one the Cragmites had used on him to start with. Then she remembered someone. "Hey, wait, where's Heather?"

"_Heather?_" Slab asked with a confused frown.

"I'm... keeping watch," came a timid voice from around the side of some crates.

"Woah... you sound cute - _oh_," he began with raised eyebrows, then lunged to the tool kit for a wrench of his own as Talwyn glared at him.

"That's _Crunch's girlfriend_," she growled advisedly, her tail beginning to whip around.

"OH! Yeah! Hey, that's cool," he barked out awkwardly, then he wondered, "But, how did he hook up with a cutie like-?"

"Oh, shut up and wrench. I swear, you're as bad as Ratchet..." she grumbled, but her voice trailed to a silence of realization. 'How much different am I, mooning over two guys like this?'

"I must say... never a dull moment with me, is there," Shlufski murmured philosophically, resting his eye sensors. "But when I get out of this, I want to find that soothsayer who told me I'd have an interesting life... and twist his fingers."

The hilarity of the remark spoken in that quaint off-world accent managed to make Talwyn chuckle, though it faded quickly as she caught Slab admiring the bolt he'd removed. She slapped his arm grumpily and made wrenching motions, and he set back to work obediently on the pinned robot. She smirked to herself as she reflected that he was becoming a well trained boyfriend. The thought brought her up short, making her blush, and she scrambled for something to say in diversion. Fortunately, the other three provided one as they came running up. "Hey," panted Cronk in excitement, as a robot obviously didn't breathe. "We got the door closed but it won't hold 'em off for long." Already, they could hear the sounds of banging at the far end.

"As long as they aren't smart enough to realize that the walls are sheet metal, we should be fine," Talwyn said, then noticed Crunch looking pensive. Maybe his girlfriend's scent was subliminally discernible. "Uh... hey," she said to him, nodding towards the edge of the wall of crates. "Someone showed up a while ago."

He blinked at her in wonder, afraid to hope for what she meant, when the tawny catgirl edged into view. "Uhm... hey," she murmured with a little wave.

"_Heather!" _he exclaimed, almost pouncing her as his boots barely touched the floor, and swept the slender girl into his arms, hugging her tightly.

"Look at you," she purred, stroking his face. "All slung with hardware like some kinda commando."

Talwyn couldn't help but smile, thinking, 'Yeah, she sure is a _Heather_.' She found herself looking into Slab's eyes, then looked quickly away in embarrassment, feeling self conscious. She patted the metal dome of the Port Boss to rouse him, as she did need to check on something. "Shlufski? Do you have enough power to walk?" She didn't have much hope for that, as "snoozing" was a sure sign of depleted energy.

"Err... sort of," he admitted, "but I'm afraid my internal components have seen some... excessive wear. I'll likely need a hand."

"Ooooh..." Zephyr uttered sympathetically as he looked the battered form of the robot up and down. "Y-you look like-"

"Please, not you too," he interrupted tiredly. "It's been a long day."

"Shlufski?" Cronk wondered aloud, fingering something on his back. "Ehh... Yohan Shlufski? Of the Four-four-deuce?"

The Port Boss blinked up at him in surprise. "How in hyperspace are you remembering _that_ old unit?"

He and Zephyr looked to each other, then snapped to attention with a smart salute, shouting, "Colonel!"

He gaped at them in shock for a moment, then laughed, waving his one free hand. "Oh, knock it off you two. Even if I wasn't a retired old bribe taking port jockey, you would both outrank me."

Cronk rested his hand on the robots shoulder, gazing into his eye sensors. "Hey, after what you been through... you deserve a hell of a lot more'n a salute."

"So, help him," Talwyn said to them with a smile, finding this robotic comraderie charming. "Zephyr, close him up. Cronk, get those bolts off his feet."

"Sure thing!" they replied in unison. Cronk grabbed a bolt on one foot, muttering, "Let's see now... lefty loosey, rightie tightie." His hand began spinning like mad counterclockwise, much like a pneumatic tool. Unfortunately, when the bolt came free, so did his hand as it unscrewed and fell to the floor. "Oh, felgercarb," he grumbled in embarrassment.

Talwyn gaped at him in dismay. "Cronk, how in _hell_ do you-?" she began, then waved herself silent. "Never mind, just... hurry up."

"Careful," Shlufski told Zephyr warningly, "they-" He was interrupted by a burst of noise spitting out of his mouth, and he flinched as something momentarily shorted out, sparks shooting. "Weren't too gentle..."

As Talwyn closed her eyes, still upset over the memory of the Cragmites' torture, Zephyr eased a circuit board into place gingerly. "I see wha'cha mean... stuff's kinda loose in there."

Everyone froze, looking to the rear of the warehouse as several loud bangs rang throughout the place, shaking walls, floor, even their bones. "I think they want in..." Slab murmured nervously.

It took a few tries, but eventually the Cragmites blasted the door out of its rails. They began pouring in with weapons poised, slowing as they looked around and spotted no trace of anyone, though there were signs of battle. Gradually, they spotted the bodies of fallen comrades here and there, until finally one made it in far enough to see the immense form of the Commander. They all tromped in, surrounding the huge motionless Cragmite, lying their with the generator leaning at an angle on his head, scratching their butts uncertainly. The leader finally realized that the thing to do was remove the generator from the Commander's head, and assess things from there, badgering a few of them to do so.

As they rocked it back and forth, trying to get a handle on the mass of metal, and doing little more than mashing the Commander's head even more in the process, his eyes sprang open, then as they came into focus, began to burn with anger. He lifted himself up, the generator crashing to the floor, and into it from its considerable weight. As the soldiers gaped at their Commander in amazement, his fist slammed into the chest of the closest one, sending it flying into several of its comrades. "Why the _HELL DID YOU DO THAT!_" he bellowed, towering over the astonished troop leader, the translator on his neck still faithfully reproducing his unintelligible flatulent roaring. The befuddled Cragmite explained as best he could how he found the Commander, and then he began to remember things on the other side of that crushing painful darkness that had befallen him.

"That... _female_," he huffed, turning this way and that suspiciously, his massive tail knocking aside crates on one side, and Cragmites on the other. "Follow me," he growled, rubbing a tender head which was forming a Mount Fuji-like welt. As the troops formed up behind him, a few at the rear were knocked senseless by the crane, which was still spinning blithely around the warehouse. "And watch out for that... thing," he warned them too late.

Leaning down and sniffing like a bloodhound, he began to ferret out the trail the group had taken last, following it to a wall. He dragged himself along it, sure that his accute senses weren't lying, when he noticed a small stack of crates at one spot. Sweeping them aside, his eyes grew red as he spotted a hole burned through the metal of the wall. Reaching through it and pounding the ground outside with his fist, he bellowed, "_I WANT MY PUNY FEISTY GURL THING!_"

"Wow... I'd say someone's not happy," Slab chuckled as he kept watch to the rear, the group slowly making its way along the docks, back to the edge of the spaceport and to the blasted city beyond.

"Yeah, and we'd better hurry as fast as we can, or we're gonna see just _how_ unhappy he is in person," Talwyn reminded them with a shudder, as the memory of that huge Commander threatening her was much too vivid just yet. "How are you doing, Yohan?" she asked, as she had taken to calling him by his given name.

"These two are doing quite well, actually," chuckling as he nodded to Cronk and Zephyr at either arm.

Cronk remembered something as it bumped against his back, and he told Shlufski, "Hey... I found somethin' of yours." With his free hand, he pushed the crumpled form of the ruined blaster rifle above his shoulder. "Almost forgot."

The battered robot turned to look, and grew very still for a moment. His voice was quiet as he spoke, though not from loss of power. "Why... thank you, lad. I appreciate that... I truly do."

She admired this scene for a moment, thinking of what it must be like to be old warriors that had seen perhaps a century of combat, and what that comeraderie must be like, then turned to Slab. "What about you?" she asked warmly.

At first he was too flustered from the tone of her voice to respond, but then he began to grin. "Like I ate cookie dough." While the rest looked to each other in perplexion, he, Crunch and Talwyn enjoyed a good laugh. "Heyy..." he drawled out to Heather afterward as something occurred to him. "So, that was you that broke in and started that... crane thing up."

"Uhh... yeah," she replied meekly as she hugged herself against Crunch, as if worried he was going to disappear on her. "I was afraid he might get... you know..." She hugged herself to him even more tightly somehow, unable to finish that dire remark.

Talwyn was amazed that such a shrinking violet had this Galactic Gladiator hidden inside her, looking aside as they nuzzled each other. "What I don't get is how you managed to heave that generator over the side of that railing. That thing had to weigh at least a ton. So you did all this on your own?"

Crunch returned with a dim look, as apparently he wanted them to reminisce over this later. Much, _much_ later. "Well..." she began timidly, "not _exactly_. I mean... there was this little..." She hesitated, trying to sort something out properly. "Purple guy, and he..."

Talwyn, Cronk and Zephyr all three froze in their tracks, their mouths hanging open as they shared astonished looks with each other. "No way," she gasped, practically lunging at the startled girl. "You mean you actually saw a _Zoni?_"

"What? I don't know," she replied awkwardly, staring at her wide-eyed. "What are they?"

Talwyn did her best to reign in her emotions, seeing that the girl was presently in a rather fragile state. "Heather... look, sorry if I'm acting kind of crazy right now, but this is _reeealy_ important. They have a friend of ours. Like... what was it doing? Telling you things?"

While she was sorting through her thoughts, Slab cut in. "Hey, guys, we're kinda like... _out here_, ya know? We kicked some serious butt tonight. Maybe we should head on back, and we can chew this all out late-"

Something struck him from behind and he fell into Crunch, who was caught off guard but managed to catch his cousin with one arm. "Dude, hey! What happ...?" he began, but his voice failed him as he saw a burn mark that went right through his cousin's jacket and into his back. Fur and flesh were gone... _he could see bone_. And he began to scream. Heather had the presence to mind to cover his mouth until she saw it too, and nearly fainted.

Talwyn was stunned, unable to think for a moment. It was unreal. It wasn't happening. It just couldn't be. She couldn't move, until she saw a creature hanging half off of the docks, dripping wet. One of the Cragmites they thought they had killed earlier. She was consumed with murderous intent just then, running forward, unable to think of anything but terrible, cruel violence. She grabbed a crowbar on a crate and began swinging it without mercy, striking the monster again and again, causing terrible wounds, until the bloody mess she'd made of it slipped from the dock and back into the waters where it belonged. She stood there, quivering with pent up fury, unable to think of what to do next. She wanted to kill them, all of them, but there weren't any around.

The crowbar slipped from her fingers, ringing on the dock as it fell, the noise jarring her back to her senses. She ran back to them, pushing Crunch out of the way and grabbing Slab's body to her, hugging him to her tightly and bawling incoherently, soaking his cheekfur with her tears. She sat there with him in her embrace as his quivering body began to lose its hold on life. Deep inside a well of darkness, Slab could hear Talwyn crying, and said to her wordlessly, _Talwyn, baby... please don't cry. If only I could talk to you... say how sorry I am... say goodbye... say anything. Fang... if you're real, make this right somehow, won't you?_

"Put me down," Shlufski told Crunch, but he was too lost in shock and sorrow to notice until a metal hand rung his skull. "_I said put me down!_"

"Oh! Uhh... sure," he replied awkwardly as he and Zephyr lowered him to sit beside the dying feloid.

"What'cha gonna do?" Zephyr asked, hoping that the old soldier had some miracle he'd kept from them. As much as he had resented the racer punk trying to steal Talwyn's heart and given them both grief over it, he had grown surprisingly fond of the pair of feloids. This was almost as painful as losing a friend. 'Poor kid... it can't end like this, it just _can't!_'

"This is old stuff," Shlufski murmured, a needle protruding from his scarred index finger. Luckily it still worked, though he had long ago stopped believing in something as random and impersonal as Luck. He tugged the leather sleeve of the feloid's jacket up, exposing the fur of his arm, and jabbed the needle into the flesh for a few seconds. "It's gonna have to adjust."

"W... what're you doing?" Talwyn blubbered, her head resting against Slab's as his breathing grew terribly faint. Crunch knelt down with Heather, the pair clutching each other tightly, too overcome to echo the girl's question. But then, Talwyn caught a flash of blue light from a gap in the robot's damaged chest, and she screamed, grabbing his hand and plunging that needle back into the arm of the man she loved. "Oh _God!_"

"Blast it, girl, I'm not sure it was ready!" Shlufski exclaimed. But it would have to be ready enough. Slab stopped breathing.

Everyone stared, hoping against hope for a sign of some positive reaction from the Leonid. "Slab?" Talwyn whimpered, blinking back her tears, but she was afraid she would be crying all over again. "_S-Slab_..."

A point of light in the darkness began to swell into a circle, growing closer, drenching him with glorious warmth. _Oh, wow... this is it, isn't it?_ he thought, but in spite of the regret of who he was leaving behind, the awareness of a Presence in the light melted away his sorrow. _Goodbye, Talwyn... I'm sorry, but I love you, and I always will..._

But to his surprise, the light took on a lovely shade of blue, though he knew somehow that it had nothing to do with the radiance he was bathed in. A Voice told him amazing things in a way that felt as soft as silk, adding, "You have many deeds to do yet, Vincent, before you come Home. And someone needs you."

_Father? Dad? Can I stay a little longer...?_ he began, but he realized that the light was coming from the body he had left behind, enveloping him, pulling on him...

Talwyn choked back a cry as his body arched upward, and he drew in a loud, deep breath. Slab blinked in bewilderment as he was smothered in a fierce embrace. "Hey, wha-? _Talwyn?_ What's goin'...?" he began, but dim memories came to light once more, and he lay there in her arms as she began crying all over again, stroking her back softly as an ominous feeling overcame him. Beside him, Crunch and Heather were both in tears, wanting to be as close to him as they could without crowding Talwyn. The emotions swimming in Slab's bosom were indescribable.

Shlufski took half a moment to relish the sight of life restored, then rapped Cronk smartly in the leg. "All right you two. This is all very charming, but we have to get these kids out of danger."

"Oh! Yeah, right," he muttered, reaching down to help the battered old robot back up.

"Uhh... thanks a lot, Colonel," Zephyr told him emotionally as he settled an arm over his shoulder. "Y-you're a real lifesaver!"

The Port Boss chuckled with a tilt of his head. "Well... I'm no plumber, but I try."

Talwyn was as glued to the side of the feloid as Heather was to Crunch as they made their way back towards town. His stomach fluttered as she stroked his side lovingly, and spent as much time gazing into his eyes as she did watching out for Cragmite patrols. "How do you feel?" she asked him.

Her eyes had never seemed more beautiful to him, more like living jewels than ever as they sparkled in his, and it took a moment to find words that remotely expressed the wild, joyous emotions flooding his soul. "Awesome. Like... I'm finally, really alive."

The Zoni watched over the group invisibly as they made their way to the seclusion of the theater, reporting back, "Sire, the ones this unit was instructed to watch over are now safe."

Clank enjoyed an inner smile at the news. While it had been a rollercoaster of chaotic forces for a while, ultimately, was there ever any doubt?

* * *

After talking it over with the others back at the theater, they decided to set up a quick camp at The Bunker, as it was about as secure as one. Retiring to a private room, the pounding rock music still blaring from speakers out in the main hall were dampened to a faint rumble. Brock and Samson brought tools with them and made what makeshift repairs as they could on Shlufski, "borrowing" bits from the furnishings and walls when nothing else would do. They had trouble keeping focused on their work, as a large burn hole in Slab's jacket evidenced that something dramatic had happened, something that had changed him in a profound way.

Talwyn wanted to throw up.

The backwater world suddenly felt less like a poor dirtball inhabited by losers. She felt at home there. She cared about Odum, and she didn't think it was just from spending time on a planet versus rotting her life away on a space station. She took it personally that their world was overrun with Cragmites... her world. The people had welcomed her, especially the Steel families. And she felt close to the pair of racer punks which initially seemed like such awkward freaks, and now, like family. And especially Slab. The mere thought of his name made her stomach flop. The tall, arrogant, egotistical, reckless... handsome, sexy, wonderful Leonid, romantic in his own unsophisticated but adorable way... how could she ever leave him?

But she knew she had to. She had steered them to her ship on the way back, and saw Sasha's message. The Phoenix was there, hiding somewhere, either in the asteroid belt or behind a moon somewhere. And chances were the Cazar wouldn't leave without her. Eventually it would be spotted, and all flaming Hell would unleash. She had to leave, for their sakes. On top of it all, didn't she owe Ratchet her help in rescuing Clank? And then, to at least know which one of them her heart truly belonged to? She looked to the feloid nearby gazing back at her, the sight of him making her stomach flutter, and she wondered if it had already chosen.

He looked disappointed as she didn't go to him, but instead over to his father. He was still trying to reconnect servo attachments to Shlufski's leg, looking up as Talwyn put a hand on his shoulder. "Listen... can we talk?"

Brock gazed into her eyes for a moment. "You are leaving us," he remarked in that deep, attention grabbing voice of his.

She winced, murmuring, "It's that obvious, huh."

"I do not think you would be looking so distressed if you were wanting to discuss our son," he said with a hint of a smirk. Felicia gave her a brief smile, though she obviously didn't like the subject of her departure. Her heart melted at the awareness of how much they cared for her. Brock interrupted her reverie. "Before we get into that... what _happened?_"

Talwyn and Shlufski looked to each other uncomfortably, the robot speaking up first. "I'm afraid it's my fault, he said quietly. "I burdened everyone-"

"Oh, cut it out," Talwyn interrupted. "We got careless, all of us. Especially me. I thought I could protect him..." She looked to Slab who, naturally, was gazing at her. She could feel him watching her all the time now. But as she turned away, she also noticed Felicia was eying her.

_You did protect him, or called on One who did._

She blinked in surprise, as it almost sounded like her voice. Except... she never really did _hear_ her voice. 'Wow...' she wondered, 'did that really just happen?'

Brock was looking down pensively, his thumb stroking along the tube of a sonic screwdriver. "I see..."

"But I kept my promise," she said, stroking those strong shoulders which seemed a little weak just then. "I'd die rather than break it."

"Well... fortunately there was no cause for that." He coughed out a syllable of laughter. "In any case, you need your ship looked to, do you not."

He tended to get right to the point, like a hammer on a nail. "Uhm... yeah. There's... another ship in the system, hiding, and they won't leave without me. Every minute I spend here is one more chance to get spotted and blasted."

He nodded in understanding. "Then my brother and I will see about your ship presently."

"Thank you for _asking_," Samson quipped sarcastically.

"As if you _ever_ ask me anything," Brock returned with a grin.

"_You're welcome!_" his brother exclaimed, and they enjoyed a laugh as they punched each other soundly in the arms.

She shook her head in amazement at the pair. "No wonder their kids are like this," she murmured under her breath, turning to look at Slab again, standing across the room, her heart racing as their eyes met. More than anything, she wanted to spend time with him, but then, a figure in reddish fur nagged at the corner of her vision, and she turned to look. Felicia... what a mysterious woman this was! A stolen slave-girl, somehow so elegant and poised and yet, she could tell, down to earth. And perhaps even psionic! If not for Slab tugging on her heartstrings like a mad puppeteer, she knew she would want to drag the vixen off into a corner and grill her mercilessly over the smallest details of her life. She grinned with a blush at the way Felicia had stood apart from Slab most of the evening to give them space. She knew she would be fast friends with the woman, and wanted to be, at least to get to know her briefly in the short time remaining on Odum. "Sorry, Slab," she murmured, "but I'll get to you in a minute."

Before she could take a step, Crunch and Heather blocked her way. The two were inseparable since they hooked up, though Talwyn couldn't blame them, considering the shape their world was in. "Hey, uh... some night, huh?" Crunch began awkwardly. Before Talwyn could say something cute and diversive, he went on, "Listen... I really appreciate all your help. I don't think we would'a lived without you 'n your friends."

"Well, hopefully you wouldn't have been crazy enough to do something like that on your own," Talwyn said with a thin smile, afraid she knew otherwise. "But listen, Heather was a huge help too, and she saved my tail when I was sure I'd had it."

The catgirl looked aside demurely, her tail swaying lazily, and Talwyn could tell she was blushing. She did have help from a Zoni, the only other person she knew outside of their tiny circle to have seen one. But mostly it instructed the girl, so what this shy, petite thing had managed on her own truly was amazing. Then she looked up with some actual fire and spunk. "I wanna be like you. You were just awesome, the way you took that one out with the bomb... thing, and then the _really_ big one... the way you stood there, yelling at that monster when he could'a squished you with one hand. I know I would'a fainted or something."

"Hey, listen!" Talwyn laughed. "I was about ready to. But after what you did tonight, I don't think you have anything to worry about, especially if you hang around with him very much. Just keep your mind sharp, stay in shape, and eat your oatmeal." When the girl made a face, she giggled, waving. "It's just an expression." She noticed their tails were sliding along each other, and their hands were laced, and this usually meant a rather involved entanglement. "You two seem to be getting along pretty well."

"We are, uhh... gonna tie the knot," Crunch admitted, blushing under his fur as they looked to each other. "I found someone really special, and... I don't wanna mess around... waste any time. 'Specially after what happened tonight. I wanna spend it all with her."

"Oh, you two..." Talwyn gasped, clasping her hands excitedly. "That is so sweet... congratulations!"

"Thank you..." Heather murmured meekly with a warm smile, though it quickly faded. "You're leaving, aren't you."

Talwyn blinked at that, as it wasn't exactly a question. "Wow... like I'm carrying a sign or something?" When Heather looked down sadly, it occurred to her that the catgirl was fond of her, and she realized all over again how much she loved them all too. And why she had to do this. "Listen... I wanna stay _so_ bad, believe me. But I have to go. I need to get the idiots running the free parts of this galaxy to do something about these monsters. I'm not running off, I'm going to get help. I want this world to be even better than it was for you and your kids. And I want to come back here." She added quietly, "This is my world too, now."

"All right..." Heather murmured, "just... don't take too long. Okay?" Before Talwyn could blink, she threw herself around the girl in a tight hug, sniffling.

It was a little awkward for her because she wasn't much of the touchy-feely type, and they were both rather buxom, but she squeezed the girl back warmly, her heart full of prayers for them all. "Hey... I'll be back before you know it, and we'll kick those squishy butts into a black hole where they'll never bother another soul again." She drew back, brushing the girl's cheeks, nodding towards her fiance. "Now... I think someone else wants some attention from you."

Cronk bumped his friend in the arm with a grin. "Looks like our little girl picked up a fan."

"A-and why wouldn't she?" Zephyr asked rhetorically. "Why, sh-she's the most capable young-"

"Okay you two, _much_ too audible," she told them in mock warning as the young couple wandered off to a couch across the room to pick up where they left off. She could hear Slab giving a disappointed sigh, unable to hide a smile at that, but she had to speak with Felicia. For some reason, she found her enthusiasm waning, her steps small and timid as she brought herself before the vixen. She realized that the woman wasn't all that much older than she was, but somehow, she seemed incredibly mature and wise, much older inside like some kind of guru, and it made her feel very small and childish. She chuckled uncomfortably at her sudden awkwardness, mumbling as she clasped her hands, "Wow... this is so weird. I have a zillion things I want to say, but... for some reason, I can't think of a darn one..."

In the silence that followed, their eyes rested in each other, and Talwyn began to perceive countless things somehow, unspoken but conveyed nonetheless, as something in her spirit was touched by the young vixen. The harsh, unfair, cruel life of a slave; a young, tender heart that refused to be crushed no matter what; the delight of being liberated by a handsome, brash, but surprisingly tenderhearted ruffian; a time of endless running, until a home was found; a simple life of hardship, but of heartborn treasures and loving intimacy no wealth could replace; the frustration and pleasure of raising a son way too much like his father; the pain and fear of a world stolen from her by stupid, ruthless aliens; the sheer joy of a son returned to her, plucked from the jaws of death, safe and whole.

Tears began to flow down both their cheeks, and the next thing she knew, she was in the vixens arms, hugging her fiercely and sobbing as she buried her face in the fur of her shoulder. This woman, this wonderful, wise, tenderhearted woman... she couldn't bear the thought of leaving her. "Mama... oh, _mama_..." she wept, giving voice to what she felt in her soul. She couldn't remember the last time she'd said those words, but with all her heart, she clung to them.

She sobbed all the more as Felicia whispered, "Talwyn... baby... please, don't cry..." even as her own tears dampened the girl's hair.

She would make it up to Slab in a while, but for now, she was going to savor the warmth and comfort of a mother's love, and keep some for her own.

* * *

An hour later, they were at the side of her ship, an hour that Talwyn wished she had back. She was dismayed when she checked her chronometer, and saw that a mere three hours had passed since they set off to rescue Yohan Shlufski. 'So an hour and a half of trouble take forever, but fifty minutes with dear friends are gone in a flash. Someone really needs to fix time.' It was going to hurt deeply to say goodbye to these people, especially one in particular.

The trio noticed Samson eying a piece of drainpipe on the corner of a warehouse, then gaped at him in shock as he tore a section out, dragging it back behind the Odyssey. Zephyr blabbered, "Uh-dyuh-uhm... is he gonna use that... to..."

"They know what they're doing," she assured them, although she wasn't so sure herself.

Crunch came around to where they were standing, wiping his hands on an old towel, though Talwyn clearly wanted to see his cousin. "Almost done," he told them. "You're really lucky nothing important got blasted. But... it looks like they're kinda... rubberbandin' stuff."

"You mean, just enough to get us outta here?" She frowned at the memory of the poor ship limping between the Phoenix and Odum, and hoped Sasha would still avail them help from their mechanics. Assuming she didn't throw them in the brig first thing. "Oh, it should be fine. I think we can get a berth out of it."

His eyes opened wide at that, beginning to say, "You mean...? Wow, that must be some ship-!"

Talwyn hushed him quickly. "Yeah, I'll... tell you all about it sometime. This whole thing has been a serious mess. You won't believe it. Aaanyway..." she drawled pensively, fidgeting as she looked to the rear of the ship, "I kinda wanna..."

"I don't think they need 'im that bad," he told her with an understanding grin.

That was all she needed to hear and bounded around to the end of the vessel, where the three of them were fitting the drainpipe in place of another which was severed. 'I really hope that's some strong rust,' she muttered inwardly, then said to the feloids, "Uhm... I was wondering if I could... borrow Slab. I mean, unless he's actually being useful." She couldn't resist the added barb, grinning.

"Hey now!" the youth began in protest, peering around an engine assembly with a roll of duct tape. "I got ears, ya know."

The two "oldies" had to laugh, and Brock told her, "I suppose we could spare him."

"Great!" she gushed, more or less dragging him out boots first, and then running off to the front of the ship with him as Crunch and the warbots wandered off to make small talk somehow. And, as they usually did, they ended up staring at each other for many long, silent moments. "Hey... some night, huh," she began to break the silence. "And listen... sorry about that scene at The Bunker with your mom-"

"Aw, that don't matter," he interrupted, his eyes taking on an almost hungry look.

"Yeah, but it made things kind of weird with us, and I wanted it to be-"

"Stay," he cut in again. "_Please_ stay. I need you. If you leave... I'll go nuts-"

"Hey, I know," she blurted out, heaving a sigh. "And you know I want to. I can't get over how awesome your family is... everyone is. Especially your mom." Her voice grew quiet as she murmured, "She's just... unbelievable. I love her _so much_..."

"Yeah, she's a trip-" he began, choking back a yelp as Talwyn punched him in the arm.

"You better mean that in a good way!" she growled, though most of the anger was just nervous tension.

"Hey, I do! She's crazy awesome." He added quietly, in a reverent way, "And, she is my mom... my _real_ mom."

Talwyn understood what he meant, that there was no _step-_ in their relationship. "I know. She loves you the same way." Her hand stroked down the rough leather jacket that smelled of hundreds of hours in those old fighters, and now from the fumes of her half-scorched engines, until it found his hand, and clasped it warmly. Underneath that chemical tang, she could still make out that Leonid fragrance, spicy, musky, but still sweet somehow. Her voice was barely above a whisper, though he caught every syllable, causing his fur to stand on end. "And... I do too. I want..."

She wasn't sure who moved first, but they were suddenly entangled in a tight embrace, their lips drawing on each other's hungrily. His hands were a bit rudely placed, but she didn't care. She planted her feet and pressed her melting curves into his long, hard, masculine feloid body, her heart pounding as a thrill of delight ran to the core of her being, her hand grabbing a fistful of his thick mane as she tasted deeply of his mouth. 'If only... only we could be alone... just for a while... just him, and-'

They practically flung each other apart at the sound of a noisy throat being cleared behind her. "Well. I see you two are... sharing fond memories."

"Of all the rotten-" Slab began under his breath. "_Yeah!_ Pops, we were just-"

"Do _not_ call me that," Brock interrupted as he approached. Evidently he insisted on more formal terms with others around. "And... well, I know," he added with a fatherly wink laced in his tone. "Miss Apogee-"

"Please, call me Talwyn," she cut in with a smile. "I kind of... feel like I've been adopted anyway." She looked behind the large feloid to the rear of her ship. "Well, if you're done, I... kinda gotta go." She felt Slab's hand searching for hers, and clasped it tightly, her heartbeat doubling.

"I was, uhm..." Brock began hesitantly as Samson joined him, wiping his hands on a shop towel, Crunch at his side. "Going to suggest you message your friends and tell them to leave you. Your craft has been badly shot up-"

"Twice," she admitted, causing everyone to shift uncomfortably and Brock to cough in dismay.

"Mi... _Talwyn_," he told her, "you will need to outrun attack ships, and I cannot guarantee that the engines will withstand the stress."

"You want me to stay, don't you," she remarked pointedly.

He looked downward, having been nailed. "Well... I cannot lie. Your help has been beyond what we would dare ask of you. You have been a tremendous inspiration to all of us. And, we are... all... very fond of you..." He noticed her and his son clasping hands, a melancholy smile tugging at his lips.

Talwyn's stomach clenched at the choice she was being forced to make. She regretted that everyone couldn't be there. She wanted to see Yohan one last time, that gruff but charming old warbot. She marveled at how Heather had so idolized her, and how she herself felt the same towards Felicia. Well... more so, feeling as if she'd found the mother she yearned for all her life, even if she thought she'd overcome that years ago. But honestly, she loved them all dearly. "Hey..." she murmured, "don't think this isn't the hardest decision of my life. Believe me, there's nothing I want to do more than blast these monsters off the face of Odum. And it's not like I don't care for every one of you. I do. Especially..." she snuck a glimpse of Slab's face, his eyes shining into hers, shivering at the caress of his hand. She looked away, blinking, as it was very hard to keep from crying. "But... a friend of ours is in bad trouble. You know the story. I can't just... abandon him like that. Besides, one way or another, I'll be back."

"Is that another Apogee promise?" Brock asked with a little smile.

"Definitely," Talwyn laughed for a moment, then added earnestly, "I... can't leave you guys, not really." She gave Slab's hand a final squeeze to assure him that there was one in particular she wanted to return to.

"It will be hard to forgive you if you do not," he said solemnly, adding, "but... I will pray on your behalf that I will not have to."

As Samson nodded in agreement, it occurred to her that they were actually very spiritual people for such ruffians, whether from Felicia's influence or not. 'What amazing people they are,' she remarked in wonder, reaching for his hand, and this time he shook it. She wanted to hug the burly Leonid, but she'd embarrassed herself already with Felicia. She promised to embarrass herself good when she returned though. "Listen... I appreciate everything. Prayers too," she murmured as she shook Samson's hand as well. It was becoming very hard not to cry, but she forced herself to continue. "I wish I could stay, but... well, gotta fly."

"We know," Brock said to her in a quiet voice which still held a basso rumble. "Safe passage and a speedy return, Father willing." Slab looked to him at that, causing Talwyn to wonder just what he'd experienced when he faded away. He hadn't said a word about it.

"Get in the ship, guys," she ordered the two soldiers woodenly as the others wandered off, glad to see that Slab had enough sense to linger. She dreaded this moment more than anything. The unthinkable nearly happened, and she almost lost him. She wished she were two people, and one could stay with him and keep him safe, or else die with him. She hated having to do this, boiling with rage at the choice she was forced to make, to leave this young punk who meant the world to her. "Listen, you..." she began, but it was hard to think straight, to form coherent words. Something would happen, would go wrong, and he would do something reckless and stupid. She knew him; it seemed almost inevitable. She had to stay with him, save him from himself, help him win his world back. To take his hand and make vows along with Crunch and Heather, and give herself to him completely. But she couldn't... it wasn't fair! She was so frustrated, she wanted to scream.

"Talwyn, baby..." Slab began, his heart aching at the state she was in, and the notion of being without her. He thought briefly of trying one last time to get her to stay. Briefly, because there was a sudden hard impact on his chin that made his vision go blurry, and he found himself on the ground. She landed hard on top of him, and he began to protest, raising his hands defensively.

"Shut up!" she cried, seizing him in a tight embrace and kissing him fiercely, deeply. The desperation and pain in her soul stung in his tangibly. He was so overwhelmed, all he could do was sit there and be ravished in a moment of need. He reflected in the back of his mind that he really should be the one doing the ravishing, but after all, weren't they were practically mirror images of each other? 'What a perfect girl for me...' he thought, but before he could respond to the kiss, really respond, she broke away.

She was crying, and it was a shocking sight, all the emotions vivid on her face with her tears; the fear, the desire, the concern and love. He wasn't sure he'd even seen this between his mom and dad, it was so unique. While one fist grabbed him angrily by the jacked to hold him up, the other stroked his cheek tenderly, wet with her tears. Her voice was tense with these two conflicting emotions as she said to him, "You stay alive. You hear me? I'm coming back. So don't you dare... die on me, or I'll never forgive you. Ever." His reply was smothered by another ferocious kiss, this one all too brief. Then with a sob, she was gone, as she practically flung herself at her ship.

Crunch came to his side, supporting him as he remarked with a grin, "Ya know.. I think she likes you."

As he licked moisture from his lips, he murmured, "And, wow... does she have a way of sayin' so..." He knew in the very fiber of his being that in all of time and space, there wasn't a girl like Talwyn. And no one could take her place in his heart, not ever. The last glimpse of her as she jumped over the steps and inside were bittersweet, but he clung to that last sight of her as she looked to him before disappearing inside, and those almond shaped, jewel-like eyes, shining with love.

Neither had time to relish this poignant moment, as their fathers grabbed them, Samson shouting over a sudden noise, "You knuckleheads, this ship is taking off!"

Talwyn watched through bleary vision as they ran a safe distance away. She had to smile at the thought that some of that distance might be for safety's sake, but the engines were actually purring to life like always. "You miracle workers," she mumbled. Then she began crying all over again.

Slab shouted at her, mouthing in an obvious way she couldn't miss, "I love you, Talwyn!"

Somehow, she didn't unstrap from her seat, didn't shut down the engines and run to him, thought she came very close. With a supreme effort, she managed to remain seated and continued the procedure for spaceflight. But she took a moment to gaze at him, the tall, lanky feloid with a mane that looked like it had never known a brush, as wild and untamed as he was. And that's just how she wanted him to remain. Thoughts of Ratchet intruded briefly, but she stuffed them back from the dark nook whence they came. She would deal with that issue when it mattered. She made sure he could see her as she replied with a blown kiss, "Love you too."

As the ship lifted off, something breaking in her spirit, she somehow also managed to remember to do one last thing, typing out a quick text message.

Slab watched pensively as Talwyn's ship roar off on a low trajectory over the worn down storage area, wondering when he would ever see her again, when he was jarred from his melancholy reverie by a slap to the head. "All right you hooligan son of mine," Brock growled, "_where_ did you land the Scimitar!"

"Hey!" he yelped, wincing. "Easy, dad... can't a guy have a moment, here?"

"You had several moments!" His father's eyes grew large and red. "And it had _better be in one piece!_"

"Yeah, yeah, it is!" Slab protested with raised hands, backpedaling, as his hope to stall for time vanished. "Uhmm... you know thee, uhh... sewage farm?"

Brock slapped a massive hand across his face in dismay as Samson tried unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh. "You did _not_ bring my ship down in a sewer pond!" He had a habit of making questions into statements others dare not contradict.

"No! No... not..." Slab looked aside evasively, hoping for mercy. "All the _way_, anyhow..."

"Oh, _dude_..." Crunch groaned as Samson began laughing in earnest. "Besides the smell, stuff lives out there!"

Just as Brock seized his son's lapels in a fierce grasp, his brother slapped his hands away. "Now now, before you kill your _only_ son," Samson remarked, blinking back a tear, "do you not recall doing much the same thing as you were stealing Felicia?" The memory of the poor woman trying not to look disgusted almost had him laughing again.

Brock stumbled through several garbled syllables before blurting out, "That was different!"

"Yes, it is always different when your _son_ is doing it." Crunch nearly fell over in shock as Samson exploded at him, "_Am I right?_"

"Yes! Sir! _Yessir!_" Crunch replied brokenly, as he'd never quite grown used to his father's strange sense of humor or spontaneous outbursts.

"Now," Samson began, slapping the others on the shoulder, "come, we have a ship to hoist. And perhaps afterwards, our wives will give us loving attention during a warm bath for our troubles."

Brock gave his brother a dim look for his rather odd outlook on things, then grumbled to Slab darkly, "My ship will _not stink_. Understand?"

The youth looked down with a sigh, as he envisioned many, _many_ hours of washing and scrubbing countless nooks and crannies in the old fighter. "It'll smell like a rose, dad, guaranteed." He cast his gaze wistfully at the trail of vapor Talwyn's ship left behind, that and the distant roar being the only parting gift she had left to give him. But then the sounds of blaster fire came to him, and when he realized what it meant, he had to laugh. "Go get 'em, babe!"

"This is for Odum!" Talwyn exclaimed as she ran blaster beams across a row of unevenly parked Cruisers, making one strafing run. While the firepower of the Odyssey wasn't all that great, she seriously needed to blow off steam. Spotting some running Cragmites, she grit her teeth and ran the deadly beams through the horde without mercy. "And _this_ is for _Slab!_"

"And _this_ is for Colonel Shlufski!" Cronk hollered, raking everything in sight with turret fire as Talwyn roared off into the rapidly blackening sky.

Commander Haghharrer waddled out of the ruined Port Authority building he'd torn open, surveying the slight damage but scorched bodies of his troops, then shook his fist at the retreating gleam of light. "You come back here so I can _finish this battle!_" He tried to remember the cute phrase Talwyn had thrown at him through his skull-splitting headache, then the scene popped into recollection. "_LOSERS!_"

Talwyn grasped the controls nervously as the ship broke through the stratosphere with a hypersonic boom. They were lucky that Odum was such a lame, undefended world, and all the Cragmite forces were practically asleep. And apparently most of the fleet had landed, leaving the token presence of a few Cruisers in orbit. But right now, a tugship might be enough to end their lives, and if they didn't meet up with the Phoenix right quick, it was going to be a very short, tragic flight. Her parting shots weren't going to help matters either. "Sasha," she murmured, "I sure hope you keep your mailbox open..."

* * *

Sasha was utterly in heaven, wrapped in an emotional blanket of delight as she lay under satin sheets. She stroked his arm lightly with her fingers, purring as he caressed her lovingly, "I never knew... how soft bare skin felt... or how delicious it was against my fur-"

"Captain? Incoming message."

She lurched upward, clutching her sheets to her in excruciating embarrassment. How in hell did they get in her bedroom! She began to yell in bloody outrage, when she realized that she was on the bridge, in the Command chair. "Oh, crapping hell," she muttered, fighting to come to her senses as she wiped her face. "Message? What's the source-?" she began, but saw that Lola had already flashed it to her terminal.

_On my way - Tal_

She rubbed her eyes to wipe away the last bit of sleepiness, muttering, "She sure waits 'til the last minute to let someone know these things." Turning to Lola, she said loudly, "Orange alert! Call all ready crew to battle stations." As an orange glow ran around the ceiling and lights to strobe, along with a warning siren, she turned to Busby. "What's the situation on Odum?"

"Aye have ze latest data from Spuuk-" Raoul declared over the First Officer. "On maen screen now."

"_Thanks_ for being so helpful," Busby muttered sarcastically.

"Yeu are w_elcome_," Raoul drawled with exaggerated politeness.

"Knock it off you two," Sasha snapped, curtailing any more banter. On the massive screen, the planet filled it to great detail, and of the Cragmite forces, save for a few here and there and a pair of Cruisers in orbit, all were dormant. But the most important figure on that screen was an icon signifying a civilian vessel, one that no doubt held a very frightened young girl. And which had clearly attracted the attention of the Cruisers. If there were more forces lurking on the other side of the world, she would deal with them. "Dakkar, get us to that ship, pronto. Peter, I.D. whatever is in low orbit on the other side of the moon. If it's Cragmite, blast it, then target those two Cruisers, but hold fire until I order."

"Yes ma'am," they replied simultaneously, a rumble in the ship and a sense of movement indicating that they were headed for a confrontation. The Phoenix roared out of the crater and sailed quickly over the pole of the moon, and just then, a beep signaled ships weapon fire. "Cragmite scoutship identified and destroyed," Peter reported.

"Thank you, Mister Boil," Sasha replied quietly, doubting that this would do anything but worsen things, but she had to follow the rules of war as best she could. She looked to Busby who she could tell was sneaking glances of her. The passions of that lurid dream were hard to ignore in the quiet before the storm, flooding her with warmth, though it also caused a cramp to erupt in her belly. 'Damn it to hell... I can't even dwell on the afterglow of the one sweet dream I've had in ages, or the man who loves me. Life truly is cruel sometimes.'

As if knowing she needed a diversion, the Navigation Officer made a report. "Ma'am, e.t.a. on the Odyssey Beta is about five minutes thirty. Cruisers will have her in four."

"Well, _that's_ just *flocking* wonderful," Sasha grumbled, "Lola, hail those Cruisers. They'll listen to reason, or they're getting scrapped."

She blinked as an indicator on her console lit. "Captain, incoming signal from Odum..." Her eyes grew wider as she added, "It's the Cragmite Commander."

"Oh! Oh oh oh!" Busby blurted out, scampering over to the side of the Command chair. "Listen, they have a weird cultural system. I can coach you on what to say."

Lola blinked again as something overrode her console, and the screen filled with the image of the humongous Commander. "Well, _that_ was rude!" she exclaimed. Then everyone gaped in shock as Busby threw himself under Sasha's chair, lying face up between her legs.

"Busby," she hissed, "what the _hell_ are you doing!"

He didn't have a chance to reply as the massive Cragmite began bellowing at them, an immense ice pack the size of a mattress on his head. "Puny little things! I am Commander Haghharrer! Leader of this noble invasion force! This is _naow_ Cragmite territory, and you are _TRESPASSING!_ Hereby hand over your ship and crew _if you want your worthless lives to continue!_"

"Well," Sasha remarked with a smirk, "looks like Talwyn was in town." She glanced down as Busby was motioning to her. He held up a tablet that read, _I can coach you_. "Oh great... my own private teleprompter," she muttered. Still, she could use the help as she had just a few short minutes before things got drastic. He held up his tablet again, and she gleaned what was on it, standing above the man, straddling his waist. 'Of all the indignities...' she began to herself, but managed to regain her composure, lifting herself to her full two-plus cubits of height.

"Says your bloated self!" she exclaimed. "I am not impressed, and will not even bother to tell my crew of your ridiculous demands!"

The Cragmite gaped at her in shock, then began to roar with flatulent laughter, which was fortunately cut short by a twinge from his injury. "What is _THIS!_ I cannot believe my audio membranes! Someone who knows how to have _a proper conversation!_ I am inside out! We should have a nice long shouting match with each other!"

"What is that thing, a living sewer?" she muttered in disgust, then noticed Busby's new speech line. "No! This hurling pleasant insults across a screen isn't as much fun as doing it in person, with knives and weapons and things. Some other time, maybe!" She glanced down, whispering, "Do these monstrosities talk like this _all_ the time?"

"Oh please!" exclaimed the Commander. "I have never had the pleasure of insulting a fellow commander. You have bumps in soft places that make me think you are a female. And so small! If all of your people are like the one who gave me this hit on the head, the one in that tiny ship i believe, I am going to enjoy fighting and killing you!"

Sasha could feel her cheeks burning, as she sensed that the creature was belittling her, and insinuating things that enraged her. "Just try it, you overgrown sea slug!"

She could hear Busby gasp as the Commander cringed back from the screen for a moment. Evidently she had made a crucial faux pas, as the creature bellowed, "_There is no need to GET SO PERSONAL!_"

"_SHUT UP!_" she exclaimed, so angry that she startled the rest of her crew. She was ignoring Busby as she went on, "Now you call off those Cruisers! That ship holds friends of mine! If you don't, your little toy combat ships are getting vaporized in fifty seconds! In fact, I have half a mind to wage war on you anyway, and wipe you off the face of that planet with _this one puny warship!_" She sat back in her Command chair, making sure not to trip over Busby in the process. "But I want it to be a fair fight. Your piddling little invasion force wouldn't last half a standard hour. And I don't want your stupid fellow Cragmites taking it out on Odum for something they had nothing to do with. So you get yourselves ready. Leave that dirtball sometime, join up with a _proper_ fleet, and if you have the male organs and appropriate size, I'll give you a fight you won't forget for the rest of your _very_ brief life." She crossed her legs, waiting for the monster to respond, when she noticed that Busby was blinking up at her in astonishment. 'Oh... great, I hope I'm playing this right, or there's likely going to be hell to pay in one hundred short seconds.'

He was gaping up at her in admiration, thinking, '_I love this woman!_'

The Cragmite was gaping at her as if pondering her, sizing up her and her threat, and all the while the clock was ticking off the seconds of Talwyn's life. 'You asshole, quit playing with me!' she fumed to herself.

Finally, he gurgled. Then he chuckled. Then he began to laugh. "You dangle a nice prize with pretend money just out of reach. That is hardly fair! But... let me deal with something." He waved to someone off screen, saying something like, "Let the little thing get away. I know they are bored! But they want to live to see a _real_ fight, don't they? I thought so."

Everyone held their breaths as they watched a window on the tactical display.

* * *

Talwyn's stomach clenched as Cronk reported, "Somethin's comin' up fast... looks like a missile. Should I blast it?"

She was about to reply _hell yes!_ when it occurred to her to check her displays first. "Wait... we aren't being targeted, and it looks kinda small..." And as she watched, it began to veer off a bit from chasing them. She knew full well that she was placing their lives in her hands, but said to him, "Cronk, just leave it alone. If it starts acting hostile, then give it what for."

"What for?" he asked, then she realized he wasn't smarting back to her. "Looks kinda friendly."

She blinked as it came alongside, and through the viewports she could see that it was a robot in a rocket body. It waved to her, beaming a signal to them. "Hey, mind if I tag along? That planet back there isn't too friendly. Name's Spook."

"Oh! I bet that's one of Sasha's scout bots!" she exclaimed. She beamed back to him, "Sure, especially if you can take care of Cruisers."

"Err... well, sorta," he replied hesitantly. "I mean, i can fly into one and self destruct, but that's about it."

Her heart sank and she murmured, "No, never mind then I'm Talwyn, by the way. Nice meeting you, even if it's in a mess like this. Say, hasn't... Sasha contacted you? Is that why you're booking out of there?"

"Not yet, but..." He held his hand close to his bullet-shaped head to feign whispering in space. "I was hoping that a signal to me got scrambled. Guess not. I just figured maybe you did because I saw you screamin' outta there like all of Hell was after you."

She winced, hoping she wasn't jumping the gun, and looking over her shoulder reflexively at the unseen Cruisers on their tail. "Might as well be..."

"Hey," he interrupted, "looks like our _friends_ are leaving us for some reason." He pointed behind him with obvious meaning.

"Oh, seriously?" she gasped, and widening the scanner display, she could see that the Cruisers had peeled off and were heading back to their orbits. And there was something else; at the edge of the screen was a large vessel, closing in fast from the direction of the far moon. At first, she squealed with joy, but that was tempered when another thought struck her. "Oh... crap, this might mean battle. Spook, I'm going to vector off about thirty from current." Then she looked up and saw that he wasn't paying attention to her.

He noticed, and informed her, "Hold on, I'm getting something..."

* * *

Mister Boil felt a ton of weight drop from his shouldersas the Cruisers veered away just half a minute from intercept of the Odyssey, and reported the obvious. "Ma'am, enemy Cruisers have broken off their attack. All targeting systems are unlocked, and they look to be heading back to original positions."

"Oh, thank heaven..." Sasha whispered, holding her head in relief. Then she jumped, along with everyone else on the bridge, as the Commander reminded them all that he was still linked.

"So, I see you are all very happy to get your angry little girl friend back alive. Do not think that we Cragmites do not have an enlarged heart! But when you come to do battle with me, be sure to bring that one along with you! I have the matter of a head bruise on a balance that I need to settle with that one. Now. _go away and FIX THAT BEAT UP TIN CAN YOU CALL A WARSHIP SO I CAN BASH IT ALL OVER AGAIN!_"

"Listen you-!" Sasha began, then pounded her armrest out of frustration when she saw that he had killed the transmission, and she couldn't return fire for dissing her ship. "That damn son of a bitch..."

She found herself staring down at Busby, still straddling the post of the Command chair beneath her, and the sight of him, the expression on his face, and the position beneath her caused a delicious tickle to run all through her. She closed her eyes tightly to fight the elicit emotions running amok, hissing as she stood, "Busby... for crying out loud,_ get up._" She grabbed his hands and hauled him roughly to his feet, more roughly than she'd intended, but she was half stressed out. But then, when her eyes opened and settled into his, and she gazed at that cute geeky face, all the ire washed out of her like that. Still, she couldn't let herself dwell on anything like she was thinking, especially not on the bridge in full view of her crew. So she muttered to him, "You could have texted that to me, you know."

At first, he was kind of lost, unable to think of what got him to do what he did just three minutes ago. But then his brain engaged, it hit him, and his mouth hung open for an amusingly long time. "I... knew that," he lied, then admitted, "Okay, I got ahead of my mind for a minute. Besides..." he added under his breath, "it was nice to admire the view."

The admission nearly had her choking, and she thumped him in the chest with her fist, grumbling when she could talk again, "If I ever... _ever_... find out you did that on purpose... we're gonna talk, mister."

She let that threat dangle in front of him for a while, but it didn't seem to be working, especially when he asked with a trace of a smile, "Promise?"

It was _so_ hard not to laugh just then, and it took all her will just to keep herself to half a smile. "_Promise_, Busby. Now... go to your damn station." As he wandered off, still eying her and smiling, she sat down, curling up in pain and turmoil as she fought as hard as she ever had to keep from laughing. "I'm gonna kill him... I swear, some day Busby... death, lots of death..." She could hardly contain it though. After all this dreadful tension, his ridiculous sense of humor was infectious. She jumped from her chair, biting her lip and half giggling as she fought back tears. "Captain has to tend to... stuff. Ten minute time out."

"Uh, Captain's... _outtahere!_" Busby declared as she bolted for the exit, covering her mouth, and he took her seat. He felt mixed up, and unable to think for a minute as her fragrance in the chair enveloped him. "Gee, I hope I didn't upset 'er..." he mumbled to himself, and was so caught up with worry that he missed Lola and Helmut eying him suspiciously.

She was ever so glad that no one was in the ladies room to see her burst in, laughing wildly as she made her way to a toilet. How could almost everything that idiot did seem so damn funny to her? But as she sat in the stall, tears began to flow in earnest, and she began sobbing. No, he wasn't an idiot. He was the dearest thing to her heart right now. And he just couldn't be that. It was impossible. The truth of it ached in her gut, and very few things were more painful. "I can't..." she wept, "I just... _can't_. But I need you, Busby... I need you _so much_..." No matter how many times she tried to deny it, to rationalize it away, she couldn't get the man out of her heart. But then... should she really try?

Ratchet was there too, but_ that_ idiot was light years away, probably doing everything he could to get himself killed again. Busby was close, and right now at least, he was the man that mattered. And... oh man, did he matter.

But other things mattered too. The ship, her crew, the mission... whatever the hell it was now. Spook. She'd forgotten about him in the utter chaos of the last ten minutes, but Busby would reel him in. Ratchet. Clank. Talwyn. She would have to get herself sorted and be ready to greet her, and hopefully not rip her apart, then collapse in tears hugging the pieces. She yanked off a length of tissue, wiped her face and blew her nose. "I have to get over this... _damn_ period and find my brain again, before I totally lose it."

She reflected briefly with a melancholy smile that, once again, when Ratchet came barrelling into her life, it got turned completely upside down. "Ratchet does it... Busby does it... what a predicament, to be stuck between two such oddballs," she murmured with a bittersweet grin. But they were both wonderful predicaments, and she couldn't live without one of them.

"Well... enough self pity and imploding angsty girl stuff," she muttered, flushing the tissue. "Have to be the Iron Lady again."

* * *

Talwyn couldn't enjoy the view of that lifesaving warship as she brought the Odyssey into the landing bay, couldn't fret over the damage, couldn't respond to Spook's goodbye wave, couldn't do anything but quiver in fear. Sasha's welcoming message was hardly welcoming. She looked angry, her voice terse, cold, and all business. "Proceed to landing bay three, as before. I'll meet you there. Sasha out."

She couldn't fault the Cazar for being cheesed off. Her antics had jeopardized the Phoenix and her crew. But surely Sasha understood. She seemed to, before. But then, the stress of hiding from a whole Cragmite invasion fleet had probably got to her. Wouldn't it to anyone?

She brought the ship in smoothly and locked it down as gravity kicked in, then ducked with the warbots as there was a loud *BANG!* from the engines. Fortunately that's all they did, and Zephyr remarked, "Ehh... any landing you can run away from...?"

"_Very_ funny," Talwyn grumbled, then noticed a group of people marching smartly into the landing bay, a catwoman leading the way, her tail flicking irritably. "Come on, guys," she mumbled in glum resignation, "let's get this overwith."

The same group met them as before, but this time, their grumpy stares were too painful to bear, especially Sasha's. She stood there, her arms crossed as she regarded them all sternly, looking betrayed. "Welcome aboard," she told them with a smirk.

Talwyn wanted to collapse in tears. She _had_ betrayed them, abused Sasha's trust, took advantage of their presence as she knew full well they wouldn't leave, and all this on top of the pain of running from Slab and his family. Somehow she managed to pull herself together, bowing slightly as she unholstered her pistol and held it out towards them, but her voice was tight with pent up emotion. "I... humbly submit ourselves to your mercy." Zephyr bumped a flabbergasted Cronk in the arm to do likewise, and he coughed out a surprised syllable, holding forth his rifle.

"Oh, knock it off," Sasha muttered tiredly, and the trio looked up in surprise. "_Don't_ think that thought hadn't crossed my mind. Several times. But... no, you're not under arrest."

"They're _not?_" the others exclaimed in shock, the First Officer adding, "Well, you're darn lucky-"

"Busby, hush," Sasha ordered, and the others snapped back to attention. She looked the girl over, her gaze softening a bit. Her eyes and cheeks were red from tears, and she looked ready to cry again at any moment. Something hadn't gone well, and her heart wilted in sympathy.

"Sasha, _I'm sorry-!_" Talwyn wailed, but stopped as the Captain put up her hand.

"Hey... ease up. I know you did what you had to, and... from the looks of things, it hasn't gone according to plan. Much like anything else in this insane adventure, and I'm sorry about that," she added sympathetically. "We'll talk about all that later. Let's get you settled in, finally. But, _beforrre_ that..." she drawled, unmoving, as the trio began to step forward, "I'll have that card you used earlier." She held out her hand expectantly.

"Yeah... uhm, sorry. Here." Talwyn winced as she opened her pouch, drawing forth the red hacking card and laying it in the Cazar's outstretched hand.

As Sasha waved the card slightly, meaningfully, she asked, "Are there any _more_ little surprises I should know about?"

She looked ready to burst into tears as she blurted out, "Sasha, I'll never use anything against you again, I _promise!_"

The Cazar looked skeptical for a moment, but murmured, "Promise accepted. Now, come on. You three look like you've been through hell, and could use some rest."

"Boy, ain't that the truth," Cronk remarked dryly as they finally began to set off, the four other officers leading the way.

"Oh, one more thing," Sasha said over her shoulder, and before Talwyn could take a breath, the feloid had seized her by the collar, her eyes burning a savage red, her voice quiet but deadly. "You listen good, little missy. You pull a stunt like that on me again... _ever_... and your butt is in lockdown until I damn well feel like it. Understood?" The two warbots rattled in fear behind them.

Talwyn had never suspected that Sasha could be so frightening, shivering under that terrible gaze, unable to speak for an uncomfortably long time. "Uhm... yeah. Yeah. Totally."

It took a fearfully long moment for Sasha to calm down, but at last, the anger faded and she released the startled girl. "Well... I'm glad we understand each other. Now, let's go."

When at _last_ it seemed they were going on their way without any more heart pounding dramatics, Talwyn finally caught a breath in relief. "Wow..." she whispered to herself, "is it that time of the month, or what?" She froze for a moment as Sasha bristled, casting a look of death over her shoulder, and waved frantically. "_Sorry!_ Sorry..."

"I can't believe you said that," Zephyr told her guardedly. "A-an' you bein' a _girl_ and all!"

"I know, _I know_..." Talwyn muttered fretfully as they continued. "Maybe I should just lock myself in my room."

She heaved a big sigh of relief as Sasha giggled. "Hey, listen... sorry about the heavy handed welcome, but you had to know it was coming after this stunt you pulled. As long as you've learned your lesson. _Right?_"

She cast a warning look over her shoulder that nearly made Talwyn stumble, and she blurted out, "Uh, _yeah!_ Yeah. Totally."

She felt stupid for repeating herself like that, but it caused Sasha to smile in response. "Good. Now, if you need anything, feel free to contact me directly. I'll give you my comm link. And the ship's maps are accessible to you all. If you need food, the cafeteria is available, and if it's closed, there are canteens all over the place. Don't believe the stories about Navy chow. It's actually pretty tasty."

Her mood eased a good deal as Sasha turned downright chatty, and Talwyn murmured, "Wow... thanks. I kinda feel at home here."

"You are, _within reason_, now. This is a military ship, remember, and there are rules. But I'll send you the amended _Talwyn_ version, so don't worry about feeling boxed in."

"This just gets better and better," Talwyn remarked, finally able to smile. "And hey... I really appreciate everything, seriously."

"No problem," Sasha told her with a grin. "But listen, now it begins in earnest. Assuming the Cragmites honor their stand down and allow us to embark, we have to get on Ratchet's tail like a sewer shark. And I finally have a lead on him, so when you feel up to it, we need to have that talk."

Talwyn's stomach suddenly tied itself into a knot. 'Wow... _wow!_ I can hardly believe it! I'm finally on my way!' She replied enthusiastically, "Oh, you bet! Any time!" She almost lost a step as the forlorn image of Slab came to mind, and her mood darkened from the romantic conflict. But she shrugged off her angst, promising his memory, 'Hold on... I have to do this. I have to find out, for sure. And i have to help him rescue Clank. But after that, one way or the other, I'm coming back. Count on it.'

But there was one more thing. When Sasha mentioned Ratchet, the First Officer glanced over his shoulder, and looked to Sasha. And it was a funny look that meant... things. And when it hit her what those _things_ were, notions of hearts and arrows danced through her imagination, and she practically wiggled with excitement. 'Hey! Maybe I'm not the only one caught between two guys here! But one way or another, I _have_ to find out!'

They passed a pair of Trooper warbots on patrol as they were nearing the deck station, and their heads rotated to scrutinize the trio in tow behind Sasha. "Hey! Uh, 'scuse us, Capt'n," one said as both groups halted, "but... aren't you two...?"

"Commander Cronk," he said quickly to be first.

"And Zephyr, Polaris Galactic Space Rangers," the other added. "Uh... retired."

"Gosh," the other Trooper piped up, "aren't you the ones who took on a whole tribe of robo-ninjas with a rusty spork and a soggy toilet paper tube?"

Cronk began quietly to his friend, "Did we make that one up-?"

"And _true_, every word of it!" Zephyr blurted out, giving the other a sharp elbow in the side.

The pair of Troopers snapped to clanging attention as the girls suppressed giggles, the first one declaring, "Wow! Y-you two are legends in the Space Rangers!"

"That ain't no lie!" his fellow added as their salutes were returned. "Listen, you gotta come meet the guys and share some o' those war stories with us. It'd be an honor. And it's not like we got much else to do right now."

"Weh-hell..." Cronk drawled, lifting himself up on his toes. "I suppose we could impart some of our extensive combat experience to you kids. It'll be nice to rub elbows with the troops again, and you guys all upgraded 'n stuff."

"Dyeh... after a quick recharge anyhow," Zephyr added. "Why, we just got done tanglin' with the biggest dang Cragmite this universe has ever seen!"

The two Troopers blinked their optical sensors to each other in delight. "Oh man... we can hardly wait!"

"All right you two," Sasha cut in, "there will be plenty of time for socializing later. Continue with your duties." After the two warbots saluted and went back to their routine and they themselves continued on, Sasha remarked, "I was unaware that your friends are such living legends." Talwyn could tell that she meant _I never would have guessed_.

"Yeah, you may not know it from looking at 'em," she said, flashing a grin to the pair, "but they have the medals to prove it." She winced as they passed through the deck station with additional guards inside, and noticed Sasha bristling at the doors she had sealed in her daring escape, though these had been repaired. 'Are you ever gonna forgive me for that?' she wondered sadly, though she had to admit it would be hard to do herself.

Sasha dismissed the other officers, though they gave the three guests dubious looks, especially Busby, then they went on their way. She explained a few things as she went along, such as the level of alerts, and that they were currently under one. After an elevator ride that ascended several decks, they arrived at a nondescript corridor, with doors spaced periodically along them. "Here you go," she said, opening the first door for them. "I hope you enjoy the accommodations. This is a V.I.P. suite, after all."

She was surprised to find that their chamber, though smaller, was much like a luxury suite at a hotel. "Wow..." she murmured admiringly. "You aren't kidding." Still, it was hard to enjoy it, and she gazed at the Cazar wistfully.

"Well, listen," she informed the girl. "I have to get back to the bridge. We are technically in a state of war, and those monsters still might pull something, so I might be busy for a while. But if something doesn't make sense, give me a buzz and I'll get with you when I can. I'll make time for that talk later. And when you two go to that pow-wow with the Rangers later on," she added to the warbots, "let me know. I'd be pleased to sit in."

"Oh, yes _ma'am!_" Zephyr replied, the pair of them snapping to and saluting.

She flashed them a smile as she returned it, though there was still some stiffness in her manner as she said to them, "Enjoy your stay. I'll see you later-"

"I want to come too," Talwyn interrupted as Sasha began to leave.

She gave the girl a dim look. "Talwyn, this is one of those rules. I'm sorry-"

"Please?" she murmured, squeezing her hands. "I want you to trust me again."

The Cazar gazed at her for a while, her expression darkening, and her tail became very still which wasn't a good sign. "All right," she said, catching Talwyn completely off guard. Before she could blurt out anything in gratitude, Sasha added sternly, "There are no spare seats so you'll have to stand. Stay out of the way. And if there's any combat, you're confined to quarters until it's over. _Understood?_"

"Oh, yes _ma'am_," she replied emphatically, but trying not to get carried away.

"All right then," she said, giving her a brief, thin smile. "Follow me."

"We'll just... charge," Cronk began with a wave, but the pair had already vanished through the door. "Guess the way we cut outta here left a bad taste in their mouths."

"It weren't exactly neighborly," Zephyr agreed as they settled into some amazingly comfortable easy chairs next to some charge points. "Bu-but if anyone can win over the Cap'n, Talwyn can."

Cronk plugged a cable into his stomach and crooned in satisfaction, "_Oooh_... this feels good-" But before he'd barely finished his sentence, he had sprawled back in the chair and went dormant.

"Out like a light!" Zephyr blinked at his friend as he plugged in his own cable, though as the current flowed into him, he murmured, "But I do think you got the right idea, ol' budd-" His remark cut off as well as he slumped into the seat.

Talwyn was surprised that the guest suites were in the same area as the officer's quarters, Sasha pointing hers out, and not all that far off was the bridge. "Now, don't get any ideas," she said pointedly. "The bridge isn't an open area for you, and I mean business. There won't be much time for conversation, and don't interrupt. If anyone tells you _anything_ that I don't countermand, do it, or you're out of there."

"Yes ma'am," Talwyn replied meekly, beginning to breathe a bit because Sasha was walking very fast, and she was afraid it was because the Cazar was still angry with her. "Sasha... I wanna be friends again."

Her pace slowed just a bit, and she sighed, "I know. And... don't think we're not. It just smarts a little, the way you threatened everyone, and then jeopardized my ship. You know?" She cast a smirk at the girl.

"I know, and I'm _sorry_," Talwyn said to her understandingly. "I _really_ am-"

"Okay, I get it," Sasha interrupted. "No need to keep repeating that. Just bear with me if I get cranky or short with you. It'll pass, you'll see."

She gazed at the Cazar sympathetically. It _was_ the middle of her period, and she _had_ threatened to shoot her loved one. 'I would've gone a lot crazier than she did,' Talwyn realized as they began marching toward a pair of large, obviously thick doors. "Thanks, Sasha-" she began as the doors parted, interrupted by an unexpected outcry.

"Capitain iss on der - _vwatt in heil?_" exclaimed a musclebound man to the left as they marched into the bridge. Everyone turned to look at what had startled him, gaping in surprise, not the least was the First Officer as he rose from a chair in the middle of a raised section overlooking the rest of the bridge. Talwyn felt very small and threatened, like a mouse caught in the open of a kitchen floor, and stuck close to Sasha.

"Guys, there will be a civilian presence," she declared. "Captain's prerogative. Now-"

"But..." the thickly accented man interrupted, "vwatt doss zat _mean?_"

"It means, hush _up_ about it, Helmut," she replied scoldingly as she took the Captain's seat, then blurted out, "What's the situation?"

"Cragmite forces are inactive," replied a man promptly at a console below. "No sign of hostile activity. Spook and the Odyssey Beta are secure. The Phoenix is ready for further orders, Captain."

It was a strange atmosphere she had stumbled into, a busy, almost mechanical world where she didn't belong and felt out of place as could be, bound by stifling rules and authority. She began to wonder if she'd made a rash request and shouldn't have come there at all. But then she saw the world of Odum through the front viewport and on the main screen, and felt a twisted, bittersweet satisfaction. At least she could say goodbye to Slab one last time. But not for the last, she promised.

"Take us there, Dakkar," Sasha ordered, "maximum speed."

Talwyn realized that she had spaced out and missed some crucial information. When it seemed there was a healthy enough pause, she asked, "Where are we headed?"

The Cazar stared out the front viewport, obviously distracted, as the ship came about and headed for open space. "Hmm? Oh... Ratchet's last known location. A modder's port about a galactic arc away in Confederation space."

Her stomach lurched, and questions burned in her heart over what had happened to him, but something was bothering Sasha. Instead, she asked, "What's the matter?"

The woman heaved a sigh as she propped herself up, her tail flicking irritably, and she didn't answer right away. "We're running with our tails between our legs, when I should be setting those poor people free of those bastards."

_I should be setting those poor people free_. The distinction seemed quite significant. "You take this personally, don't you."

"You're damn right, I do," she muttered bitterly, looking into Talwyn's face, and underneath that metal-hard Captain's facade, she could see a heartbroken woman. The two of them could only share in the worry over what was in store for the unfortunate souls of that world.

* * *

When the sun rose, the Cragmite Commander waddled up with a company of troops to what he knew was a penitentiary, a large bandage duct taped to the massive welt on his head. The guards had fled for the most part, only a handful remaining with the warden, and in the face of the well armed Cragmite opposition, they stood down without a fight. As one of his troops dragged the frantic warden out by a leg, the Commander looked over a console littered with levers, and began sweeping his hand across it indiscriminately.

Outside, the corridors of the concrete building filled with yelling, frightened prisoners, but as they flooded into the main hall, they fell silent as they found themselves confronted by ugly alien invaders. Well armed ones, looking either angry or hungry, though it was hard to tell. The Commander managed to squeeze himself through the large doors of the warden's office, though obviously not large enough, and shouted over a railing to the mass of fearful convicts huddled below. "Good morning! Welcome your new masters! Who leads you sorry bugs?"

"That would be me." The other prisoners were pushed aside by a large, scarred, burly orange reptile who just managed to fit in his prison garb. "Crogann. Who wants to know?"

The Commander burst out laughing. "I like your attitude!" He turned to a new assistant, pointing into the warden's office at a box on his desk. "Give me that." He took it from the other, gave it a sniff, and grabbing a few of the smelly long plant sticks in it, threw them at the Agorian below. As he picked up a cigar and struck a match on the head of a thug near him to light it, the Commander said to him, "This world is mine now. But dealing with the worthless people here is no fun for me. I need someone who will make them do what I want."

The creature blew a huge smoke ring, leaning on several prisoners and baring long fangs as he chuckled larcenously. "If you are looking for someone with proven people skills, you found your man."

* * *

Two _very_ haggard men in tattered black suits appeared on a teleport cannon on the low platform of the station with startled cries, their bodies coalescing from a swarm of glowing orbs. They noticed that they were clinging to each other and pushed themselves apart with a gasp, nervously straightening torn up ties in a way they hoped looked macho. Agent L shivered, muttering tersely as he adjusted his dark glasses, "I hate teleport cannons - _dammit_." He kicked a purple asteroid grub clinging to his leg off into the gulf over the Gravity Reactor, then tried as nonchalantly as possible to urge a torn lapel to lie remotely in its proper place.

"Why is that?" asked Agent P, punching his crushed hat more or less into shape.

"You can see your own insides as you get shot all over the universe," he replied with a quiver. "That's just wrong."

His compadre peered at him dubiously over the top of his scratched glasses. "No you can't."

"Well..." the other began, spending way too much time searching for a sound rebuttal. "I can."

"Must be rough," Agent P muttered as he pressed the call button at the entrance door.

To their surprise, a message began playing. "Welcome to Apogee Station, located in the scenic - and very dangerous - Nundac Asteroid Ring. This is Talwyn Apogee. Sorry, but I'm not here right now." As they looked to each other in dismay, the message continued, "Along with the asteroid grubs, centipedes and Leviathan which roam all over the place, I hope you enjoyed experiencing the outer defenses. I bet _that_ was fun. Good luck getting through the front door though, because it just gets worse."

"Freaking Jay _Edgar_..." moaned Agent L as he fell straight backwards, the platform ringing with a metallic thud.

"Pain... _pain_... need my pills," his friend whimpered as he slumped against the elevator shaft, reaching for a side pocket that was no longer there. "Ohh... poo gas, fripping centipede ate 'em... communist."

* * *

**Author's notes**

**Forgiveness:** you've surely noticed by now, especially in this chapter, that people will use the phrase "I won't forgive you." The meaning of this is that in the afterlife, if someone hasn't forgiven you of something, you will have to make it up to them for all eternity. Since this is most likely a drag, especially a never ending drag, people tend to try and make up for things in this life.

**Jay Edgar:** a reference to the founder and original head of the Intercluster Alliance Intelligence Agency, **Jay Edgar Hover,** who instilled his organization with the qualities of honesty, integrity, and ruthlessness. His memory is invoked by all members of the agency with a mixture of fondness and dread.

**Reggie Fundle:** the son of a lawyer and a used flyer salesman, history being vague as to which spouse was which. Despite his many unsavory dealings in building his empire on the fledgling Odum colony several centuries ago, he was instrumental in establishing the many structures necessary for a functioning society. Unfortunately, he also allowed a number of crime rings to carve out a seedy underworld for themselves, insuring that Odum's primary engine driving commerce was a market which ran from gray to black. Great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great... well, maybe not _that_ great, grandson **Elmer** continues the family tradition of providing the best Planetary Council money and influence can buy. Until recent events, anyhow...

**Willy:** a fellow robot soldier serving with Cronk and Zephyr, who unfortunately was blasted long ago because he had a habit of running around in the face of danger, waving his arms wildly.

**Additional notes**

I have to apologize for taking so long. For some reason, this year has been a SERIOUS drag, and going to my work desk at 6:30am is an ordeal I'd only wish on terrorists and pigeon molesters. Well... and a few people at work, but that's another story. Fortunately, the urge had been building in intensity, and I had a long Memorial Day weekend. It took a few days of mis-starts where nothing was working when suddenly the dam broke. I ended up with way over 40 pages of material, and I still had a long way to go! Yikes. As of Friday evening I was _still_ writing, so I decided to try and consolidate it, whack it off at a suitable stopping point - i.e. cliffhanger - and throw something up. The consolidating didn't work, the rewriting of the last scenes didn't work, and even though it was becoming something of a soap opera, here you go.

I'm still happy with it, but then I really dig getting into these people's lives and exploring them. If nothing else, it gives you plenty to read while you wait for me to get my act together. For lack of anything else to put here, I thought I'd post the bridge crew so you'd know who is who.

UFS Phoenix II, CHC-119, Heavy Cruiser Class  
Captain Sasha Phyronyx  
First Officer/Science Officer Busby Birdwell  
Security Officer Helmut Warhelm  
Combat Officer Peter Boil  
Communications Officer Lola Chatterly  
Chief of Engineering Mick Tesla  
Helmsman Dakkar Mimo  
Ship's Computer Raoul!

I know this has kind of taken forever, but I can FINALLY say that the next addition will be the last and I can move on to our regularly scheduled quest to find Clank. With detours...

**Additional notes 2**

*whew!*

Well... I hope you guys have enjoyed this rollercoaster so far. I'm very sorry that it has taken so long to get back to this fic, which has been covered with the dust of nearly a _year's_ neglect. Carrying all this material around with me all this time and being unable to write for various reasons has been extremely frustrating. And believe me, there's a _lot_ more to come. Thank God, I can carry on now, and needless to say, the ride is just going to get bumpier from here on out. Get ready, Ratchet fans, it should be an interesting journey. ;D

Merry Christmas and God bless everyone! I hope this is a good present for you all.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27: Milking information from You-Know-Where**

They were both perspiring, muscles straining, hearts racing, their chests heaving from labored breath as they struggled with the emotions raging in their bodies.

Qwark's hand wandered to the armrest across from his, brushing over the hand of his companion as they drew deep, warm breaths. Al's eye opened wide when he realized what was going on, as did Qwark, and as their eyes locked in horror, they cried out as they flinched away. "Hey!" Qwark exclaimed. "It is _strictly forbidden_ for sidekicks to get so... _intimate!_ Even androids! Keep your hands to yourself! Especially when you're... well, you know..."

"Don't look at me!" Al protested in a fluster, ignoring the _android_ remark. "I wasn't the one trying to pet... _eww!_ Of all the disgusting..." He waved his hand as if trying to shake something off, though his eye was gradually drawn back - as was Qwark's - to an irresistible display where a Courtney Gears video was playing. Quite a lurid one, though they all were, and they had gone through a number of them in their travel down the wormhole between galaxies, and growing increasingly... excited. "Uhm..." he began faintly, "maybe this should be the last one. I, uh... need a shower."

"Tell me about it," Qwark muttered, flinching back from an angry look from the cyborg. "Hey, I didn't mean that you _smel-!_" he began, jumping as his ship emerged with an alarm into normal space, and grouched at being caught off guard. "Darn it... I guess you're right though, little buddy," he declared, reluctantly ending the video. "Looks like we've arrived."

Al gave the hero a dim glance at the _little buddy_ remark, drawing his tablet from under his lab jacket to learn about their destination. When he began reading, his eye opened wide. "Qwark, I thought we were trying to pick up the trail of Ratchet. What the heck are we doing _here?_"

"Squeezing the tender udders of the underworld for information, chum. Watch and learn as a master of sleuthfullness slides between the soiled sheets of crime to seize nuggets of knowledge," Qwark replied brightly as Al grimaced in disgust.

"And just _how_ do you intend to go about doing that?" he asked dubiously. "Isn't this _enemy_ territory? I sincerely doubt you rank very high on anyone's guest list."

"Au contraire, my doubtful deputy," Qwark told him with a lofty smile. "Naturally, you couldn't possibly know of my previous heroic exploits here, being on _tha down low_, but I managed to strike up a few crucial contacts deep in the intestines of this seething diarrhea of evil. If there's anything to digest, I'll get the hard poop-"

"Qwark, _please_ hush up before you make me ill. Good grief..." Al interrupted squeamishly. He distracted himself from any further unsavory dialog of the hero by reading up on the world they were approaching.

On the screen, the flabby, scarred face of the Port Boss appeared as he grumbled, "Welcome to Mukow, the galaxy's most popular and dangerous resort world. Now, get the hell onto this approach vector..."

In a secluded office cloaked in shadow and high above the twisted fairgrounds, a bizarre figure ringed with a halo of otherworldly energies watched a monitor with a growing smile. "Well... it seems that an old _friend_ of mine has finally made his way back here, and more or less on schedule, for once." He looked up to a tall figure wearing a well traveled bush hat, asking, "You have the items I gave you-?" He paused as the saurian nodded, holding them up. "Good. Now, tend to your orders. You don't have time to dawdle."

* * *

"Hey, wha'd'ya know, it quit raining." Qwark folded his umbrella and collapsed it to pocket size, adding, "I tell ya, it rains here more than it does on New Seattle."

They welcomed the lull in the incessant showers as the pair made their way towards the Coliseum ticket line, sunlight gleaming in water puddles and rainsoaked foliage. Qwark's vivid green and violet leotard was covered, mostly, by an immense labcoat rather like Al's. As he tugged it more or less in place under the straps of the backpack concealing his Dimensionator, the geeky technologist remarked, "Qwark... I know I'm going to hate myself for admitting this, but I think you're too well built a fellow for that labcoat to conceal much of your cluster spanning identity."

He looked left and right to make sure no one was watching them, though it was hard to ignore the odd couple, and drew Al aside to the cover of some tall hedges. "That's why I have... _these_," the hero countered with a smile, reaching into the cloak and drawing forth a pair of items in each massive hand. In one, he held some gaudily colored lenseless glasses, in the other, a plastic mustache. "Here. They're the latest in identity confusion technology."

"Wow, that sounds even better than a _disguise_..." Al muttered dubiously as he took them from the insistent hero. "And right out of the clandestine section in Galaxy Mart." Looking them over skeptically, he stuffed them in a breast pocket as Qwark put his own on.

"How did you know?" he asked, whipping around and going, "Boo! Hey, I bet you didn't know it was me!"

Al grumbled, "Qwark, you look-" He managed to choke off _ridiculous_, continuing as smoothly as he could, "Nothing like yourself."

"See? I told you they were perfect. Say... why aren't you wearing-?" he began, reaching for Al's pocket, flinching back as he got his hand slapped for the trouble.

The cyborg pushed Qwark out and towards the lengthening ticket line. "You're disguised well enough for both of us. Besides, no one even knows who I am."

"Oh, this is _way_ beyond a mere disguise, little buddy," the hero replied guardedly as he jumped in front of a large metal clad figure, dragging Al with him. Looking up at the angry fish in a water-filled dome atop the mechanized suit, Qwark flashed him a smile. "Uh, we were here yesterday." As his sidekick stifled a groan, Qwark eyed the others like it in the line, and there were a large number of them. "Wow... have you noticed that there are a lot of armored sushi clunking around here?"

Al tried to wave him quiet with a loud _shh!_ "They're _Drophyds_. Emperor Tachyon expanded the arena areas to entertain his mercenaries, because they demanded the satisfaction of seeing other races decapitated in bloody gladiatorial combat. They're considered a delicacy among many of the people in the cluster, and that's kind of a sore point with them."

Qwark gave out a laugh. "Oh, who cares what tasty goldfish think?" He cringed back as the Drophyd leaned over him with a growl from the suit speaker.

"I see your tact and social skills are as sharp as ever," Al muttered dryly. "Or the lack thereof." As Qwark tried in his usual clumsy way to placate the offended Drophyd, Al inquired, "Say, _why_ are we going in here again? I'm not a big fan of wanton ruthless killing, you know."

"I have... friends in high... and low places," Qwark groaned out as he grappled with the aquatic warrior. "Hey... have any... fish food handy?"

Al sighed, fishing a small bag of bolts from an inside pouch of his labcoat. "_Bribery_ is usually a pretty good way to-" He flinched as the Drophyd snatched it from him, releasing the hero with a final glare. "End a disagreement." As Qwark stuck his tongue out at the mercenary, rubbing his wrist, the cyborg added, "You owe me five hundred bolts."

"What?" he cried in disbelief, drawing forth his debit card and checking the balance in a small display. "Why, I remember the days when a sidekick would glady bankrupt himself for his mentor."

"Thank heaven, _those_ were the days..." Al mumbled.

Just then, Qwark burst out gleefully, "Wow! Oh, that's right, I forgot to pay Sasha baahh..." His voice trailed to silence as he caught Al glaring at him from the corner of his eye.

"You forgot to _what?_" he demanded hotly, folding his arms at the Captain.

"Uhh... nothing," Qwark snapped in response, stuffing the card back in his wallet, then he froze in the motion of jamming it under the belt of his leotard as he saw something bizarre at the head of the line. A strange creature that looked like a large legged sea slug stuffed an insectoid about to buy a ticket into its maw, then stepped up to the counter with a belch. Pointing with a quivering finger, he asked in a thin, incredulous voice, "Is... that one of those... _things_ Ratchet's people banished, and... did it just _eat...?_"

"Yes, and ignoring it will prolong our lives _greatly_," Al warned him. "Honestly, didn't you learn anything in superhero school?"

"I kinda... took long lunches and skipped a few classes. Now and then," Qwark admitted timidly.

"Well, _that_ explains a lot..." the cyborg muttered.

Fortunately, it took some time for the line to draw short, and Qwark managed to regain his usual heroic bluster. Behind the weapon-resistant crystal of the booth, a large wrinkled old toad of a woman with a beehive hairdo regarded the mismatched pair with disdain. "Well, look what we have here... two rejects from the science club, backpacks and all." As an insect buzzed out of her hairdo, her tongue lashed out at it, snapping it into her mouth, followed by noisy, crunchy chewing.

"Err... precisely!" Qwark declared, after recovering, with an upraised, finger pointing arm, offering his debit cars with the other. "We're on a working summer vacation to take in the sights of this marvelous mecca of Cragmite delights!" Al slapped his hand across his face in dismay as Qwark added quickly, "And I'm not a superhero."

"Well, _that_ goes without saying..." the saleswoman remarked dryly as she returned the card with his name prominently displayed, and two tickets.

Qwark shot back a sour look, wandering off towards the Coliseum entrance with Al, but his head popped around the side of the booth a second later to glare at her. "I could'a been, ya know."

"_Qwark?_" Al groaned warningly.

"Sure thing, twinkle toes," she muttered as Al dragged the hero away, reaching for the phone and pushing a red button on the console. "Boss? Listen... Captain Qwark and his wind-up nephew dropped in at the Arena just now. Should I have the boys show 'em upstairs?"

There was laughter in the receiver. "No, I have a better idea. Why don't we give them a _front row_ seat, if you know what I mean?"

"Sure thing, boss." She chuckled with him as she pressed another button, murmuring, "I love the perks of this job."

As she strutted smartly down the corridor back stage of the arena accompanied by her saurian manager, Courtney Gears felt a twinge of lingering uncertainty. "Are you _suuurre_ this is really a career enhancing appearance, Klinkenbolt?"

"_Klinkengold_," the manager corrected tiredly, as he'd done countless times. "And _yes_, Courtney baby, read a paper once in a while! The Cragmites are poised to take this whole galaxy over, so we need to establish your market presence ahead of the game. _Trust_ me on this."

"I _trusted_ you on that toothpaste commercial deal," she remarked sourly, "and look what it got me." She tried to shut out the memory of sparks flying from her mouth from that first brush, followed by her toppling over to end with her head exploding from her neck. The tabloids were plastered with the embarrassing images, headlined with _A shocking endorsement!_ "I could kill you for that!"

"Hey, a minor technical oversight!" he protested. "Besides, why didn't you know that would happen?"

"I don't brush my teeth, you idiot!" she growled, then slowed in her walk as a lanky, ragged figure approached them. "Oh... goodie, a fan," she murmured sarcastically, grabbing the manager by the arm. "Give 'im a signed eight by ten glossy and shoo his squishy butt off, kay?"

"Hold on now," he said to them, and as he drew closer, they could make out an odd blue eye-patched figure dressed mostly in black, a small red bird on his shoulder, and topped with a quaint bush hat that looked to have been through a few scuffles. "I'm part o' the staff, here to greet'cha. See?" He thumbed a small laminated badge clipped to his vest pocket at them, and on the pale green surface in marker was scrawled, STAFF.

"Ohh..." Courtney said in dawning realization. "Well, I have to tell you that so far, your people haven't been very accommodating to the needs of a star of my caliber."

"Prima donna!" squawked the red avioid. "Never happy-!"

"OH!" the Sorlak blurted out, muzzling the bird with one hand. "Well, by all means, gimme a run down of all the, uh... unfortunate oversights, an' I'll do my very best to get them rectified a-s-a-p! In the mean time, follow me to yer... waitin' room."

"Oh, thank heaven, finally _someone_ who understands how to treat a gigastar!" she gushed in relief as the manager snapped up a notepad of all the details his star has ranted to him. "Well, to start with, the charging station was _one whole volt_ off. I hope you understand, I'm not used to such poorly calibrated equipment."

"Those precisely machined curves o' yours deserve the very _best_, I agree," the Sorlak empathized. "Why, what other fembot can make a squishy like me weak in the knees?" He grinned as the avioid gaped at him in shock.

"Hey, you should come to my dressing room after I'm done with this gig," she told the reptile in a sultry voice, giggling as her manager blinked up at her from under his dark glasses. "Anyway, I'm also still waiting for that synthetic oil Shih Tzu massage..."

She was still rattling off demands five minutes later as she was walked into a gloomy chamber full of cleaning equipment, blinking as she tried to fathom what the situation was, the door closing. "Klinkenbolt, where's that nice staffer? I need him to change this room. These accommodations look more like a damn janitor closet."

"This _is_ a damn janitor closet!" he exclaimed, rattling the handle. "And we're locked in!"

She turned on him, eyes bulging from behind his shades as she growled angrily, "All right Simon, what the hell are you doing, booking a gig _that makes me wait in a faqing broom closet!_"

The Sorlak stepped away from the door as sounds of commotion came from within, murmuring, "I think I'll just leave the two o' them to sort this all out amiably."

A large saurian guard watching over the milling crowds raised his walkie-talkie to the side of his head at a burst of static. "Yeah boss?" His eyes narrowed at the Coliseum manager's instructions. "Two punks dressed like lab rats? Yeah, I see 'em." He blinked in surprise at what was said next. "Seriously? What did they do to ya? Eh, never mind, I'm on it."

"I dunno, Qwark, I'm not to keen on this..." began the geek fretfully.

"Oh come on, Al, don't be such a wimp," the hero said chidingly. "This is known throughout Tachyon's Empire as the best in family-friendly entertainment!"

"What family says _that?_" the cyborg muttered.

Qwark went on obliviously, "I must admit that the concessions are way overpriced, but I know a cute little register jockey who can shave off a few..." He looked up in surprise as a large scaly arm stretched out before him, cringing when he saw that it was attached to a reptilian guard even larger than he was, and with rows of sharp teeth. "Uhh... hey, I was just kidding about the concessions-"

"Special... _vee eye pee_ accommodations," the saurian interrupted, nodding towards a side corridor.

"Oh! Uhh... thanks! Here's a bolt for your time, good citizen," Qwark said happily, fishing a washer from a hidden pocket and flipping it at the guard.

He didn't bother to catch it, blinking as it bounced off his nose and clanged on the floor. As the pair marched off down the corridor, he muttered, "Enjoy the show... cheap ass."

Al's brow furrowed at the sign above the doorway which read CONTESTANTS, trying to point it out to the unobservant hero. "Are you _sure_ we're going the right way? It sounds like the crowds are back in the other direction."

Qwark waved him off dismissively. "Oh, like you'd know. You've never even been here before." But as he passed another sign, a notion struck him. "Hey! I bet this is one of those V.I.P. meet-the-gladiators deals!"

Al gave the hero a suspicious look. "And just _why_ would you be getting any kind of special treatment?"

The question caught him off guard, and the seldom-used gears of his adolescent brain spun wildly in hope of a good answer. "Wellll... uhmm... former employee perk! That's gotta be it."

"So much for the latest in identity confusion technology," Al mumbled dubiously, wondering what the heck they were about to stumble into, then the implications of what Qwark admitted had his eye popping open. "_Wait_ a minute! You mean to tell me that you worked for _Tachyon?_"

"Well... uhm..." he began, rubbing the back of his head self-consciously, "_sort_ of. I mean, I was on the payroll and all, but that doesn't really _mean_ anything..."

Al lolled his tongue in distaste. "Do I even want to know about that?"

"Stand on the platform and get ready," came a voice over a speaker as they neared what looked like an elevator pad.

"Sure thing, mister... speaker guy!" Qwark replied brightly as he stood in the center, snatching the cyborg to his side as he tried to wander off. "Come on Al, get with the program-" he began, cutting himself short at the sound of the arena announcer above and a roar from the crowd. "Listen to that!" he enthused. "It sounds like the arena is right above us!"

"That's what I'm _afraid_ of..." the cyborg muttered, just as the platform began to rise, ascending into a cylindrical wall like a piston.

The sound of the arena grew louder and the announcer more distinct. "...Ready for our first exciting match! For the first time ever, two relative unknowns are going to face the full monty of Mukow Coliseum's battle hardened veterans!"

"Did you hear that?" Qwark exclaimed. "Wow, I wonder who those two poor saps are! But it should be one hell of a..." His voice faltered as he was about to slap his companion on the back. "Gee, you look a little green for some reason. I mean... you know, actual green."

He looked up to the hero, beginning to grow angry. "Qwark, get a freaking clue! We're about to be-!"

Abruptly, a plate slid aside above them, and the roar of the crowd drowned out Al's outrage as they rose to the level of a wide expanse. And all around them ran row upon row of spectators yelling for blood. "Wow!" Qwark exclaimed. "Just look at this view! Why, it's just like you're right down in the middle of thee... uhh... wait a minute." He fell silent, his finger at his lip pensively as he cast about, trying to fathom what the situation was. Looking to Al, he began with a weak chuckle, "_This_ isn't... is it?"

"Dang it Qwark, don't you get it?" he exclaimed, pounding his squishy fists against the hero's rock hard abs. "We're not _watching_ the main event, _ we ARE the main event!_"

The hero shot back to him sarcastically, "Well gee, _sidekick_, thanks for the heads up at the last minute!"

"_I tried to tell you!_" he exclaimed in frustration. "But you were all 'Don't be a wimp, Al, get with the program Al!' If only I could be more assertive... and if only _you_ had a _fraction_ of the common sense Ratchet has!"

"Why does everyone always have to drag _him_ into these sorts of discussions?" Qwark grumbled. He pocketed the fake glasses and mustache, muttering, "Guess I don't need these anymore..."

Al buried his face in his hands, whimpering, "Now we're gonna get... _gladiatored!_ They didn't even give me an organ donor card..."

The hero was about to smart back, but the pitiful sight of his sidekick being close to tears managed somehow to touch his heart. He told Al reassuringly, patting him on the back as gently as he could, "Now, now, little buddy, just stick with me, and the only blood squirting organs which will be flying around this chamber of horrors will be those of our fallen foes. Remember these keys to a sure victory: keep your chin up and projected, and your stomach down and... not!" He poked Al in the tummy for emphasis, muttering, "_Not_. Work with me here." The cyborg tried to comply as best he could, so he let it drop and continued. "Give your opponent the steely eye of confidence, while curling your upper lip in a stylish sneer of disdain! Style points rank pretty high in the superhero biz, remember that. Keep your weapon tightly held, and shoot high, aim low! Never turn your back to an opponent, even when surrounded! Be sure to brush and floss after every meal! And most importantly-"

Abruptly, there was a loud, nasty clang of a rugged metal door slamming open behind them, and in the dark were the glare of several pairs of red glowing eyes. Qwark uttered the most succinct and profound sentence Al could remember.

"_RUN!_"

Unfortunately, they ran headlong into each other, and Qwark won that contest easily. He hauled the stunned cyborg to unsteady feet as he dragged the geek to the center of the deck, asking, "You _do_ have that blaster I assigned you, don't you chum?"

It took a moment for Al to recover, and when his vision cleared, he drew the weapon out awkwardly. "Well... yeah, but... I wasn't trained or anything!" He jumped as he saw hoards of nasty looking creatures stomping towards him with evil intent.

"Uhh... consider this your O.J.T.," Qwark told him as he opened fire on a group approaching them from the other side. He grumbled as his shoulder seams ripped, "How the heck do you fight in a stupid labcoat!"

"Of all the ridiculous... _oh my gosh_," Al blurted out as a tall ugly saurian tromped forward, drawing back a long, thick sword for a hefty swing. The cyborg fumbled with his blaster, shooting the deck in front of him, into the stands and destroying an ad for pain relief, into the air, and finally shot the startled brute in the chest, felling him. "Wow..." he gasped in amazement, "I actually got one! _Oh my gosh_."

"Don't pat yourself on the back yet, sidekick, we still have a small army yet to go! And go easy on the trigger, that thing only holds a thousand rounds," Qwark said over his shoulder. He had to duck as a sword made a deadly swing for his neck. "Hey, no fair!" he shouted with a massive fist to the thug's face. "I'm advising the new kid, here!"

Al tried to steady himself as best he could, but quickly found that with his augmented cyborg vision, aiming the blaster accurately was actually child's play, and he picked off the goons coming for him with ease. "Nine hundred seventy eight, nine hundred seventy seven..." he said to himself.

"What... you keep _count?_" Qwark laughed incredulously. "You really are a geek!"

"And you were _doubting?_" Al muttered back dryly. "Nine hundred seventy four..."

The Captain blinked in surprise as moments later, the cyborg began picking off the remaining attackers in front of himself. "Uh... hey chum, not that I don't appreciate the help and all, but you really _should_ be paying attention to your own..." Glancing over his shoulder, he gaped in amazement at the sight of nothing but bodies littering the arena deck behind him. "Gee, that's... not bad..."

After dropping the last opponent in front of the hero, Al blew across the maw of his blaster barrel nonchalantly. "And you were doubting?" Around them, sections of the floor rotated to dispatch the bodies of their foes.

The cockiness of the cyborg brought him back to his senses, and he thought it best to remind the lad of his position, patting him on the back fatherly. "I mean, that's pretty good for a _rookie_, but-"

"Wow... that's pretty good, for a pair of _rookies_," the announcer interrupted, "but let's see how well our _special guests_ handle a company of some of Emperor Tachyon's finest Drophyd mercenaries!"

"Uh... does he mean those armored sushi guys?" Qwark asked, just as the rusty doors admitting the gladiators banged open, and out poured dozens upon dozens of the black suited fighters. "I guess he does! Keep in position, back to back, sidekick!" As they began firing, they were dismayed at how many shots it took to blast through the special black alloy of the armor. "I guess those power suits aren't just for show," the hero commented, then a thought struck him and he blurted out over his shoulder, "Hey! Gimme a yank!"

"_What?_" Al exclaimed in shock at the suggestive remark, then understood as he saw Qwark strapping on the black helmet of his Dimensionator. "Oh, yeah, here," he said, giving the handle dangling from the unzipped backpack a tug. But as the arcane device sputtered to life, he came to his senses and shouted, "Qwark, wait - what do you think you're doing!"

"Just thinning out the crowd a bit, chum," the hero replied, focusing on the nearest Drophyd. "Say goodbye, surf 'n turf!"

The mercenary slowed a bit, unsure what to make of the strange device on the Captain's head, cringing as a bolt of energy shot from it and enveloped him. When he opened his eyes, he saw to his bewilderment that he was on the pleasant beach of a Pokitaru sea resort. When he realized that there was nothing much he could do about it, he gave a resigned shrug and jostled the bag of bolts on his waist that Al had given him.

"He looked rather familiar..." Qwark remarked, then laughed. "What am I saying? They all look like dinner entres."

Al was counting off shots frantically as a Trooper refused to go down, and drew ever closer with a group at his heels. "Eight sixty seven, eight sixty six... oh _poop_-"

"Uhh... what was that?" the Captain asked as there was a gurgling sound from the cyborg behind him. Casting a look over his shoulder, he gaped in alarm as the geek was being mauled by the Drophyd with several scorch marks in his suit, and taking wicked delight in choking the plump youth. It looked up in shock to see a massive green fist swinging for its water-filled dome, Qwark shouting, "Leave him _alone!_" The helmet shattered with a satisfying crash, the unfortunate fish sailing to land amidst the tromping feet of his companions. The suit flew back into a crowd approaching them, giving Qwark a moment to hoist the sputtering cyborg to rubbery legs. "Speak more clearly when you're in trouble, little buddy. Those gargling sounds don't convey much information, I have to tell you - uh oh." He stopped short in his dissertation as he saw that the Drophyds were taking advantage of the lull, and they were being set upon from all sides. "Oh yeah? Sayonara, fish fry!"

The Drophyd blinked in bewilderment as he found himself standing atop one of the carousels in the park next to the Coliseum. Hearing a rasping noise, he turned around and yelped in terror as he saw that the ride was ascending towards a plasma generator, bathing the enclosed booth in deadly energy.

"Later, railroader!" Qwark shouted.

The Trooper looked around him in confusion, as he was standing on a rail high above the bay, then squeaked in alarm, diving to the side as a train nearly slammed into him.

"Say cheese!" Qwark exclaimed.

The mercenary blinked in the darkened room he found himself in, then gaped in lurid delight as he saw that he was in the Playbot photo studio, and in the middle of a centerfold shoot. His pleasure was short lived as the model began screaming and throwing pillows at him.

"Freeezer burrrn!" he cried in a pirate voice.

The Drophyd had very little time to react as he found himself on the surface of a comet, the water of his combat suit freezing within seconds. A short time later, Rusty Pete happened along, eying the frosty suit with a hic. "Oy... that be a right nice figurehead fer the bow o' the new ship!" He struggled vainly to lift it once or twice from the frozen surface, then ambled off instead. "Err... think I'll go fetch me mates."

"Double-oh-nothing!"

The mercenary found himself surrounded by inert robot figures on the deck of a starcruiser... or so he thought, as he looked up and saw the high framework of an immense studio. "All right people, quiet on the set, and... _action!_" blared from a lofty platform against the far wall, where a camera was poised and a production team watched. Above them was a large sign reading, You Only Clank Twice.

As if in obedience, the mindless drones began to run around frantically, blathering in monotones, "Oh woe is me." "Must get away." "We're doomed." "Warning, battery is low."

The aquarian's confusion was soon replaced with horror as the director shouted, "All right, that's good. Blow it up!" The fiery blast that shook the chamber didn't seem to impress the director all that much, who complained loudly over the reverberation of it, "Where's that damned star of mine! I'm running out of preliminaries to shoot!"

"Uhhh... sir?" began an aide uncertainly, not sure what the reaction would be. "You might wanna look at this..."

The bearded film-maker raised his glasses as he watched a replay of the scene, nearly choking as he saw a black figure standing among the hectic mass of droids. "Oh, for the love of Ion Fleming... _why does every damned shot need __editing!_"

Tachyon gaped in disbelief from his office overlooking the arena, exclaiming, "What does that imbecile think he's doing! And where in the name of Zordoom is he sending my Troopers!"

The one sent to Pokitaru was delightedly helping some children create an elaborate sand castle, and with a Drophyd figure gazing from a high tower.

Having sufficiently recovered, Al shouted, "Qwark, just where the heck are you sending these Drophyds!"

"Ohh... here and there, just... out of the way places where they can't bother anyone," the hero replied, adding under his breath, "Off the top of my head..."

A Trooper clung fearfully to the head of a false-gold statue of Captain Qwark in a Metropolis plaza, his legs straddling the neck, surrounded by police with weapons drawn. "You know..." began the officer in charge, "I'm not a real fan of the Big Guy, personally, but you just can't do... _whatever_ the heck you're doing."

It took some effort, and a lot of dimensionating from Qwark, but they finally managed to dispatch the last Drophyd. The Captain ambled over to the side of the panting cyborg, gasping, "Whew... that was a pretty good work out, wasn't it?"

"It _would_ be... to you..." Al wheezed, doubled over in agony and exhaustion.

A thought struck the usually slow mind of the hero, and he asked, "That was... _two_ rounds, wasn't it?"

"Well, how about that! Amazingly, our contestants survived _two rounds_ of Coliseum combat!" the announcer said as if in answer. "The _wimpier_ ones, anyhow. So, let's kick it up a notch and see how our dynamic duo handles The Marathon Round!"

"What?" Qwark exclaimed in shock.

"_What?_" echoed Tachyon, somehow even louder. "Not _that_ deadly, you sadistic fiend! I'd better have a little _talk_ with my program director," he grumbled, slapping the scepter in his bony hand.

"Can't a guy... even catch his breath?" Al panted, struggling to lift himself to his feet.

Qwark helped him up, saying, "You'll have to wait to play catch till this is all over, chum. Move like your life depends on it, because it does!" Before he'd even finished, the thick metal doors clanged open, and a mix of robot slayers and living marauders poured forth. The hero gave a yelp of pain as vents opened up behind him and just scorched his rump with a blast of plasma. "And watch out for those!"

"Oh... this is _ridiculous!_" Al wailed as he ran as fast as he could from a series of illuminated targets which appeared all around the deck. They chased after him, and seconds later, rockets began blasting the floor of the arena behind him. He just managed to hop over a vent as warning lights blinked, a second before it opened and a jet of plasma roared out.

"Stay kinda close so I can help out, little buddy!" Qwark warned him.

"And just how the heck am I supposed to do _that_ with _all this_ Blarg poop going on!" he shouted, backpedaling and shooting at the same time, while trying to keep mental track of everything going on around him. The patterns of the plasma jets followed a strict timing routine, but keeping track of the different mobs and their various behaviors was another matter. "Six thirty eight, six thirty seven... oh _jeepers!_"

Up in the control booth, the program director found himself in a rather painful, and terrifying, confrontation with the Cragmite, the scepter hooked around his throat in much too snug a fit. "B-b-but... Emperor," he gasped,"you know that the crowds demand the very finest and deadliest arena combat-!"

"This is a special circumstance, you heavy handed cretin!" Tachyon interrupted, leaning as far out of the unearthly halo as he dared. "I have a feeling that Captain Qwark is too blasted _stupid_ to die, but his companion is considerably more vulnerable. And that supposedly heroic buffon needs all the help he can get to have a hope in flaming black Hades to follow even the simplest threads of my plan! Now..." He shoved the director's face against the panes overlooking the arena. "If one of them should _happen_ to die, your prospects aren't looking any better. _Understand?_" He tried to nod, making squeaking sounds against the pane in response. Tachyon released him and drew out his phone, muttering acridly, "Good. Now... _Joe?_ You know the drill. Keep that oblivious pair of halfwits alive. Qwark is nearly indestructible, so focus your attention on the short dumpy cyborg. They need something resembling a mind between them, so _that_ one is extremely important. And be discreet. I don't want the crowds thinking the contest is being rigged."

"I'm on it, boss," the Sorlak replied quietly, setting his phone down on the ledge overlooking the arena to take up a proper sniping position with his rifle. As he sighted in on a thug near others being shot at, he muttered, "The hell is wrong with that bug face, puttin' these guys through all this crap if he didn't want 'em gettin' killed?"

He winced as over the phone came, "I _heard_ that! And it wasn't _my_ idea, so watch who you're accusing, you _well paid_ lackey!"

The Sorlak rolled his eyes, saying more guardedly, "One hunk o' Raritanium an' some lunch money here 'n there ain't all _that_ well paid, yer _benifience_."

"Open mouth! Insert leg-!" squawked his feathered companion from his shoulder, just before Joe swatted him away.

"Shut it, Red. You don't gotta deal with... _his holiness_ like I do." As he carefully picked off or wounded select opponents, the saurian had to admit, "Ya know, those two yahoos really ain't doin' half bad for a pair o' newbs. 'Specially with all that flamin' hell goin' down on 'em."

Al found himself being crowded to the edge of the arena by a deadly looking group, headed by a floating blue-black robot drifting towards him, looking much like some demented chess piece with huge electrified plates for hands. Plates that, if it came much closer, would snap closed on him, both crushing and electrocuting him. And they made excellent shields against his blaster fire. "Qwark!" he shouted anxiously. "A little help here, please!"

"Don't mess with _my sidekick!_" Qwark shouted as he fired on the thugs closing in on the cyborg. "They're surprisingly hard to find these days..." His eyes popped open wider as he saw three goons fall when he was sure he'd only hit two of them. He raised his blaster to admire it, saying, "Well! Betsy, it seems you're enjoying that upgrade I got you last month!"

"_Qwark?_ For crying out loud-!" Al yelped, backing as close to the edge as he dared, as beneath the deck of the arena was a wide expanse of red hot stones.

"Oh! Right, sorry," the Captain muttered sheepishly, firing carefully for the head of the black robot over the crowd. Unexpectedly, the highly charged systems in its core exploded, sending the mob flying from the blast. While momentarily jubilant, his broad smile of triumph faded as his sidekick was nowhere to be seen, and he called anxiously, "Uhm... _Al?_"

Just then, a cyborg rocketed upward from over the edge of the deck, crying in pain and trailing smoke from his rump, landing heavily on the floorplates a moment later. Qwark scampered over to the singed and blasted sidekick, kneeling down beside him and looking him over in sympathy. "Al, are you all right?"

He lifted himself with an effort, muttering as he tried to center his hat, "I'll... have to get back with you on that one..."

The hero chuckled, patting him on the back as gently as he could. "You're doing great, chum! Just... oh _crud_."

Al wondered why the hero would react like that, then noticed that they were on one of the vents, which was opening. They threw each other back with a cry just as plasma shot up through it, nearly frying them both. If that wasn't bad enough, illuminated targets began to appear around them again. Al gathered his remaining strength and ran for it, hopping over the bodies of the fallen combatants while trying to run for as open an area as he could. That brush with plasma jets had Qwark thinking, and he shouted over his shoulder, "Hey! Here's an idea! Lure the bad guys into the _you-know-whats!_"

Al was incredulous, yelling back as he scrambled behind an ammo crate, "You're just _now_ thinking of that?" He rested his blaster on the crate as he was nearly exhausted, panting, "Four hundred and... and... aww, forget it. This _has_ to be... the last of them... or I'm finished..." As they dealt with the few remaining opponents, he slumped over the crate, gasping out, "Finally..."

Qwark looked around for a gladiator and saw no one, chuckling, "Well, whadya know! We-"

Al's eye popped open at a loud ringing clang of a metal door opening on either side of him, and he practically wept as he hauled himself tiredly to legs barely able to hold him upright. "Oh for the love of... _mommie!_"

Qwark knew his well of strength was almost limitless, within _limits_, but could see clearly that his companion was almost spent. Rushing to the open port nearest the cyborg, he grabbed the black robot emerging, giving a cry as energy arced along his body and to the metal deck. "AOWW! Crap... electrons... _hurts!_" With an effort that stunned everyone watching, he resisted the pain, lifting the robot and hurling it into the crowd of opponents in the exit tube. It struck a second robot and exploded, doing away with the entire mob.

The Smuggler gaped at the sight in amazement, raising his patch to view the scene properly with both eyes. "Damnation! That guy ain't even real!"

Qwark wasted little time, running to the next electro-bot and managed to overcome both the terrible charge and his own dread of pain to do the same thing. The blast again took out everyone. Driving himself onward, he ran for the third group, the mob having enough sense to know what was coming and turning to flee for the open portal, but they didn't get far. Qwark repeated the epic feat, the explosion killing the entire group, but also threw the hero back, and he toppled to the arena deck. At that point the portals slammed shut and withdrew, leaving the reluctant gladiators to deal with the consequences.

Al gaped at this unbelievable spectacle for a few moments, but quickly came to his senses. Even as insanely strong as Qwark was, he obviously couldn't take much more, but he knew what to do. Aiming precisely for the head of the electrified robot drifting near him as he had seen Qwark do, he fired, ducking as it began to spark dramatically. He yelped as it exploded and bits of metal pelted him, then rose up afterward to deal with the next one. He didn't get a chance to do much more, as a tentacle circled his neck from behind. "Oh _gak_... guess Qwark is... still down..." he choked out, struggling vainly to tug away the elastic arm of the goon who had him.

As the thug lifted him to stare him angrily in the eye, both of them blinked in surprise at a voice beside them. "Don't... count me out yet... _little buddy_."

The reptile gave out a childish wail as one of the black robots came sailing right for him, knocking him down and taking the crowd behind him down with him. Fortunately for Al, the being had let him go and he fell to the deck plates, gasping for breath, but he had the presence of mind to push himself up to see what was going on. And he was glad he did. He watched in amazement and admiration as Qwark kicked one of the remaining electro-bots into the other, the resulting blast taking out a small mob behind them. He was haggard, his suit scarred from all the abuse, and blood seeped from cuts here and there, but he had never in all his life looked more heroic and imposing. Panting a bit from all the abuse and exertion, he strode up to the remaining group backpedaling to the edge of the arena, and glared at them in a way that even made Al tremble. "Any of you punks... feeling particularly lucky today?" He drove the unspoken point home with a loud fist to his palm. "_Well?_"

The mob wanted nothing to do with the hero, choosing instead to take their chances with the heated trap around the arena. They dove over the side and bounced with cries of pain from the superheated rocks until they bound over the open edge of the Coliseum facing the fairgrounds, and to safety.

"Holy Hannibal Lecture!" cried the announcer. "Our two guest gladiators somehow made it all the way through the Marathon Round! But let's see if they can manage to pull it together and face..."

Just then, lights began to shine around the arena, and apair of large reinforced doors began to part high over the exhausted pair. A thick tentacle snapped through the broadening gap, accompanied by a deep growl. They looked to each other and began to cry childishly, "_Nooo-ho-ho-ho_..."

Tachyon looked in alarm to the schedule, seeing one of the gladiatorial behemoths cued up, Tentaclus. He hooked the director around the neck and shook his head menacingly. The unfortunate being reached desperately for the console.

As the crowd began to shout in anticipation of squashed guests, the announcer cried, "The _one_... the _ONLY-!_" Al and Qwark looked up in surprise as the lights went out and the doors closed on the tentacle, yanking itself inside with a yelp from the monster at the other end. Befuddled, the announcer finished as smoothly as he could, "Oookay... never mind. But with this last second merciful correction of schedule, it looks like our soon to be immortalized guest gladiators... have _WON!_"

Al stood there, blinking in shock and gasping, "I... I don't believe it... we _lived_..." He fell over backwards as bolts rained down on them from above.

The crowd roared in celebration, mostly, of one of the greatest spectacles they had ever witnessed. "WOW!" exclaimed the announcer. "I can safely say that this _has_ to go down in Coliseum history as one of the greatest matches of all time!"

Qwark perked up at that, and becoming aware of the jubilant spectators, as well as the tens of thousands of bolts littering the arena deck, he naturally struck a heroic pose despite the pain it caused. "Yeah, I guess you could say that-"

"Right behind the monumental victories of Mr Mustacheo!"

He winced with a growl, muttering, "I never did like that guy." But still, the excitement of the roaring crowd was infectious, reminding him of what he'd accomplished, and he chuckled as he collected his blaster. "Ohh... no matter. This is a singular day of... singular achievements, writ large with... large writing. Across the big sky known as History... eh, I'll have my publicist come up with something dramatical later." He chuckled as the stream of gibberish sounded silly even to himself, swaggering to the center of the arena, twirling his blaster nonchalantly on one finger and shouting, "Is it awesome in here, or is it just me! _Woops_..."

Everyone fell silent as the pistol went flying, struck the flooring and went off, a bolt of energy ricocheting around the arena. The crowd ducked for cover, as did Al who did his best to lie flat, but amazingly it didn't strike anywhere in the stands. Qwark crouched down, peeking from beneath the dome of the Dimensionator, and when it seemed remotely safe, he chuckled in a thin attempt to seem cool. "Uhh... sorry about that, folks, but that's a new custom manicured grip and I'm - _YEOW!_" He straightened immediately, holding his rump as the bolt struck home, then frowned sourly, grumbling through clenched teeth, "Please, tell me that's not a draft..."

Al looked up cautiously as the sound of blaster fire zipping around the arena ended, and had to laugh at the sight of the embarrassed hero. Trudging forward, he told his mentor with a pat to his massive shoulders, "Qwark, I have to admit that... that was pretty darn incredible. Well, except for that pistol thing at the end, there."

Making sure that one hand was still strategically placed, he rubbed his head with the other. "Ohh, you're just saying that because it's true, aren't you."

At first, he gagged at the arrogance of the being, but as the seconds passed, he gave in to the inevitable aspects of Qwark's nature, and the joy of being alive after the ordeal, and chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. _Big_ buddy." He pushed the hero's massive arm up in the _dramatical_ pose that was sure to come, declaring, "The triceps that ate Metropolis!"

As the crowd roared, he beamed forth with an appropriate smile. "Why, thank you sidekick for that flattering... _huh?_" He shot the cyborg a puzzled look, as that didn't exactly sound _flattering_.

"And now," boomed over the loudspeakers, "to present the grand prize to our two newest, err... gladiator victors in the Mukow Coliseum hall of fame, is that eeelectrifying robot bombshell breaking the hearts of squishies across the universe..."

Al looked up in alarm at the Dimensionator dome still atop Qwark's skull, the engine still puttering along, and exclaimed in a loud hiss, "Qwark, get that thing off!" He jumped up to grab it and began tugging on it frantically.

"Hey, Al - _hold on!_" Qwark protested as he struggled to undo the chinstrap. "Easy on the noggin, little buddy! Gimme a minute."

"We don't have a minute," the cyborg warned, fighting to get everything into Qwark's backpack. "She's coming!"

The announcer went on loudly, "The sexy robotic megastar known clusterwide, and needing _no_ introduction, COOOUUURTNEYYY... _Gears?_"

The cyborg was promptly bounced onto his rump as Qwark snapped to attention, exclaiming, "Courtney Gears? _WOW!_" He looked expectantly to the ramp forming from the Coliseum to the arena deck.

Al watched in perplexion, as did the murmuring crowd, as a one-eyed saurian male dressed in scruffy black with a travel-worn bush hat strode forward, and wearing the same purple glasses and plastic mustache Qwark had bought. The hero began happily, "Hey, Courtney, baby! Yoouuuuu're..." His voice faltered and he rubbed his prominent double chin uncertainly as not-so-subtle differences became apparent to his scalpel-sharp eyes, though it took his brain a few moments to catch up. "...Not Courtney Gears. Not even _close_. You aren't here to introduce her, are you?" Joe rolled his eye and began to speak when Qwark blurted out a laugh. "Oh, wait, that would make two introductions! That would be kind of silly, wouldn't it? Even for her."

The little red avian on Joe's shoulder, wearing his own glasses and mustache, squawked out, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a wiener!"

"That ain't no lie," the Sorlak muttered. A laugh erupted from the crowd, as the whole thing was being displayed on the big screen.

"You do look kind of familiar..." Qwark noticed, leaning forward a bit.

He waved dismissively. "Oh, well, us Sorl-" His feathered friend coughed a warning. "-Orepidrons all look alike. _Thanks Red_," he added under his breath.

Qwark folded his arms, demanding, "So... where's _Courtney?_" His question was echoed from the stands.

"Oh! Well, I have unfortunate news in that regard. Seems that Miz Gears came down with an unfortunate viral infection shortly after her arrival-" There was an abrupt outburst in the Coliseum, as all the robots began making a mad dash to the nearest data terminals for a scan. "...On Mukow. Poor thing's locked up tight."

Courtney held her manager horizontally, driving him repeatedly against the metal closet door like a battering ram. "I'm getting out of here if it kills you!"

"That's... what I'm... _afraid of_..." he moaned between strikes, the pain threatening to make him pass out.

"Really?" Al asked suspiciously, as there had been no news feeds on any such event.

"Unless somethin' happened otherwise, she's currently in a sanitary location," the saurian said with a straight face. As straight as one can be wearing cheap plastic toys, anyway.

"Wow... that's rough," Qwark murmured, looking crestfallen, as he hoped to try and rekindle the romance that may or may not be a figment of his imagination. "Say, is it appropriate to send flowers to a shallow celebrity robot babe?"

"I have it on good authority that those iridescent chromium replicas trip their relays," he replied. "But that's neither here nor there. The purpose o' this little event is to give you... yer well deserved prize!" Accompanied by dramatic music, he reached under his vest and held out a data disc in a caddy.

"Oh goodi-!" Qwark began in mid jump, his hands about to clap, looking dumbstruck as he took the disc, looking it over. Then he said in a dour tone, "Look pal, I already have more Courtney Gears videos than unofficially exist."

"Oh, that's no video," the Sorlak said advisedly. "I think yer friend here can inform you of its true value... once it's installed. Maybe even before that. Oh, and in case ya don't have one o' these lyin' around... here." He also gave Qwark a universal data buss cable.

"Uh-huh..." the Captain muttered, handing the things to Al and asking guardedly, "Is this stuff worth anything?"

He scanned it over with his cybernetic eye. His electronics detected computer programming, and highly advanced proprietary code at that. "Looks... interesting..."

"Is that a good thing?" Qwark asked.

"Besides, what're you frettin' about?" the saurian continued. "Why, don'cha have a small fortune to sweep up here?" He looked at the scattered curency with a sigh, adding wistfully, "Could use a couple handfuls o' this stuff myself."

The hero's demeanor instantly brightened. "Hey, you're right! Uh, thanks, mister... spokesperson. Say, what _is_ your name anyway?"

The Sorlak waved him off. "Oh, name's not important. I'm just an honest joe doin' a nameless, thankless job, doin' what's necessary here 'n there to move things along. And now that my job here's done, gotta run. But thank _you_ for puttin' on one hell of a show. Doubt we're gonna see anything like it fer a good long while." As he turned and marched back up the ramp, he added in earnest amazement, "And _that_ ain't no danged lie, neither."

Qwark waved at the departing saurian vacantly, saying to Al, "There's something very strange going on here."

He rolled his eye, muttering sarcastically, "What was your first clue? Anyhow, let's get back to the ship and get on with this, before one of your _friends_ here really do gets us killed, for old time's sake."

"You... have a point, there," he muttered, looking up at the Emperor's suite, sure that a familiar bug-like figure was watching them from on high. As he went up the ramp to leave the arena, he couldn't help but look back to the deck, and the cleaning crew vacuuming up the countless bolts. "Wow..." he giggled with delight, "I'll have so much money, I won't even notice when I pay back Sashhh..." His voice drifted silent as he caught the cyborg giving him a dark look. "What?"

"How much did you borrow from her?" Al demanded.

"Who said anything about that!" Qwark replied defensively, and then clammed up.

When no further admission was forthcoming, he sighed, "Never mind." But he added a few seconds later, pointing to the bolt littered arena, "I get half of that."

"What?" the hero exclaimed. After a short staring match, Qwark relented, muttering, "You can have a _third_."

"Ehh... that's more than I thought you'd say," the cyborg admitted glumly. "Thanks."

Something in his companion's tone dug at his consciousness, and small as it was, it was slowly growing a bit over time. Out of nowhere, he told Al, "Ohhh... what the heck, you can have half. That's at least double. You've been a pretty good sidekick, at that. In fact, the best I've had yet." Thinking a bit more on the matter, he added, "Of course, you're the _only_ one..."

The cyborg looked up to him in surprise. "Why... Qwark! If I didn't know better, I'd say you were gradually becoming almost human."

"Hey now, let's not go _that_ far," the hero objected, having missed the backhanded compliment. But what he didn't miss were some rude snickers and pointed fingers aimed in his direction from the crowds, and a slight breeze on his behind reminded him why. Covering his rump as best he could, he told Al urgently, "We have to see a tailor. Right now."

The cyborg eyed his backside over, briefly, saying, "Oh, let's just go. I have a roll of duct tape back at the ship."

"_What?_"

Up in the darkened Emperor's suite, a solitary Tachyon slumped down grumpily behind the desk from which he once ruled, trapped in the halo of radiance which imprisoned him, and kept the world he'd come from infuriatingly just out of reach. But not out of view. It was becoming almost intolerable, to see the splendor and delights of his world... of _any_ world, but unable to partake of any of it. It was like a slow poison to his mind, but still, he couldn't resist being here, and gazing on everything he couldn't enjoy. It was still far better than facing where he really was. "To think..." he grumbled bitterly, "just a few short cubits away, are not one, but _two_ Dimensionators. And I'm letting them slip through my fingers... deliberately." He stared at his hand before him sadly, as if that very thing were literally happening.

He curled his fist and smashed it hard into his desk. He felt a bone snap, but he scarcely noticed. "No... it doesn't matter. Not really. Only one Dimensionator matters. The one which did this to me. The one which banished my people from this universe unjustly. The one once owned by the despicable bastard who committed this racial crime. The one in the possession of his beloved son, who is my unwitting puppet. The son who I am going to take great, fiendish delight in tormenting endlessly, until he suffers a thousand times more than I ever will." He pulled open a desk drawer with his scepter and used it to fish out a roll of medical tape without looking, and began wrapping his hand with it almost absently. He rested it gingerly in his lap and went on, "That... and my marvelous, entertaining, deviously clever plan... are all that matter to me in this senseless, purposeless, stupid world. A world which is going to fall very... _very_ hard, wreathed in lovely flames and cries of anguish and fear. And _that_ is going to be fun to watch."

The Sorlak gaped at this disturbing scene through a barely open door behind the wraith, his blood running cold and making him shiver, but unable to tear himself away. 'What the hell am I doin'... workin' for this half-dead lunatic?' he wondered, but he could think of no safe way out, as trapped as the Cragmite. He jerked as his avian companion flitted off noisily, unable to face any more of it.

His throat clenched shut as the demonic alien spoke again, his voice slicing the silence like a rusted butcher knife. "Come in... _Joe_. We have matters to discuss."

* * *

"There I was, standin' at the wrong end of the butt-ugliest... well, _butt_..."

The crowd of Space Rangers and their organic friends burst into laughter as Cronk paused a well practiced length of time to let the noise work itself out. The lights were dimmed and the entire off-duty battalion had assembled in a hangar bay to hear the tale of what their small group of insurgents had pulled off on Odum. "Anyhow, everyone else was all scattered and fightin' for their lives while this Craggymite monster threatened poor Talwyn, and all the while, throwin' huge cargo crates one after the other at me with his tail! Musta been the size of a mainline luxury blimp, if not a good fifteen kilotons more!"

"He finally found a target he couldn't miss!" Zephyr cackled as the throng shook with laughter once more.

Cronk gave his friend a dull look, then went on, "And there I was, firin' away at this thing's rear quadrant with everything Ol' Faithful could dish out, and _still_ that darned behemoth hardly noticed!"

"I think he fergot he had the thing set on stun," Zephyr tossed in amidst another uproar from the robot soldiers.

"And just _whoo_ invited _youu_ in to tell this part of _myy _story?" Cronk asked haughtily, his arms crossed.

"I-I'm just tryin' to keep you from strayin' too far from the details of what actually _happened_, that's all," Zephyr replied, looking away amidst another round of laughter. "Now don't get so dad gummed long winded everyone's batteries run down, so I can relate how I turn the tables on them scalywags."

"Oh! That musta been when you nearly got yer head bit clean off at the neck ring," Cronk declared with a grin as the soldiers roared harder than ever.

Sasha and Talwyn rocked back and forth from laughter themselves, sitting a bit apart from the crowd, as they enjoyed a moment of much needed mirth and a break from the tension of their ordeal. The Cazar wiped tears from her eyes and gasped out, "Talwyn... I had no idea your guardians were such incredible storytellers!"

She chuckled in reply, "Well, they've had decades of practice to hone their skills. And while the details of their adventures have been _polished_ just a scouche over time, they really have been through a crazy number of incidents. I've listened to their stories for hours, sometimes through recharges."

Sasha's smile faded a bit as the memories and emotions of the past day around Odum refused to be quelled for long. She had been crushed with guilt when she remembered the last cries from the two racers doing their best to run interference for Talwyn, only to be caught in a hail of missile fire meant to blast the Cragmite fleet. She didn't know what she would do if she had to admit to the girl that the missile barrage had been launched on her orders. Fortunately, she could tell that the young Apogee wasn't in mourning, and through small talk, learned that the two Leonids had miraculously survived, lifting an immense burden from her shoulders... for the most part. The tension of what could have happened was hard to shake. So many things _had_ happened, so many things gone wrong, and Ratchet had nearly died in one of them. Talwyn had remained a bit glum, reluctant to discuss much of what had transpired on that backwater world, and that ate at the woman's curiosity, as well as her conscience. She worried that her friend was holding something unfortunate inside, praying that she was mistaken.

Talwyn couldn't miss the shift of expression on the Cazar's face, asking, "Sasha, what's wrong?"

She leaned forward with a sigh, kicking her legs under her seat as she propped herself up. "Ohh... trying to fight dragons back into their caves." Before the girl could give voice to her puzzled expression, Sasha went on, "Just dealing with doubts and fears, that's all. This has been one crazy, mixed up fuster-cluck, and I'm just... exhausted from it. And lost... I've never felt so confused in my life."

"I know what you mean..." Talwyn said in a near whisper, her voice trailing to silence. For a time, they shared in their gaze things that words couldn't express, though at last she found some. "This isn't just about Ratchet, is it. You need a goal, an enemy to shoot at and beat, something which follows rules you understand, and there aren't any. And you don't know how to handle it. Right?"

"You read my mind," Sasha chuckled mirthlessly, but that feloid curiosity got the better of her just then, and she decided to seize the moment. "Talwyn... just what _did_ happen on Odum? At least tell me what you can."

She smirked sourly, her gaze drifting away for a bit as her own dark memories of that time were much too fresh. "Oh... it was a mess, a really big one. The yarn Cronk and Zephyr are spinning is pretty much on the mark. Those poor people needed our help... _still_ need it in the worst way. They're so hopeless, maybe because no one ever really came to their aide, and they were never able to defend themselves through a number of wars. I got _so mad_ at you for not fighting for them, but... maybe Busby's right." She looked down with a sigh.

"He's been right so far about almost everything-" Sasha began.

She flinched back sharply as Talwyn exploded with way too much enthusiasm, "Oh! Tell me about him!"

"Who? _Busby?_ Why do you want to know about him?" Sasha asked, blinking in confusion at the abrupt change of mood. Then certain possibilities occurred to her, and she edged away defensively.

"Well, like..." the girl began, leaning forward eagerly, though she didn't know how to broach the subject tactfully. "Oh, come on. I can see that there's something going on between you two-"

"There's nothing going on between us," Sasha interrupted, though it didn't sound the least bit convincing to either one of them.

"Hey, you can't just leave it at that-" she began, hoping to wear the woman down.

"_Drop it_," she snapped, hoping to slam the door shut on the saubject. But when Talwyn sat back looking deflated and unhappy, she felt sorry for being so abrupt. As the silence lingered much too long, she decided to satisfy the girls curiosity just a bit, drawing a deep breath as she collected herself. "Talwyn... I'd gone through a very difficult time, having learned that Ratchet had _died_, or so we thought. I suppose you must have fallen to pieces for a while. Well, I did. Busby was very helpful in pulling me back together. And... well, it's not hard to feel something a little more than simple gratitude for a man in such circumstances, all things considered. But we're just good friends, and... that's all we can be."

The Cazar's voice went a little quiet at the end, and the emotions tore at her heart. Talwyn felt supremely stupid just then for bringing it up. Of course there couldn't be anything between them. They were Naval officers, Busby's superior, and that was about as forbidden as it got. "I'm... sorry, Sasha," she sighed. "I suppose... I'm just a frustrated romantic at heart. On top of that, I guess I'm too pushy. I never really had a boyfriend or anything."

Sasha gave her a thin half-smile. "I don't know if that's a Markazian trait or an Apogee, but... I hope we understand each other on the subject. And not a _word_ about it to Busby. All right?" she asked firmly.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Talwyn mumbled, swinging her leg glumly. Rather than let an uncomfortable silence develop, she said, "I could seriously use a change of subject. Like... do you have any ideas on what we're up against? And how to get hold of Angela? She's running around loose without a clue. I'm worried about her."

"I wish I had something solid to tell you..." Sasha murmured, looking out at nothing in particular. "My instincts are screaming like mad at me that there's something wrong, very wrong. And I'm not sure of the scope... maybe galaxy wide, maybe in the whole cluster. Who knows? But if I don't figure out what the hell is going on and what to do about it soon, I swear, I'm going to explode. And if someone doesn't figure _something_ out, and let the rest of us know... I'm afraid of what might happen."

The girl tugged on her lip pensively at that foreboding remark. "It's like Millennium Madness. Kind of a rumored string of disasters either caused by some weird cosmic... karmic thing manifesting in civilization at the end of the Age, or just our collective fears making the worst case scenario come true."

"I almost wish it was that simple," the Cazar sighed, looking back down as dark thoughts swirled and chased each other in crazy circles in her mind. "But it's definitely something significant. It scared Ratchet, made him hide from us, for our own sakes. So I doubt it's anything like the Alliance has faced before, perhaps in our recorded history."

A shiver of fear at the dire words ran all through Talwyn, and goosebumps prickled her skin. "And the Zoni have something to do with it."

Sasha's lips twisted in a morose smirk. "And isn't _that_ the ideal untraceable lead to a completely unknown threat. Just perfect... how the _hell_ are we supposed to conjure up one of those damned things?"

"But wait," Talwyn cut in. "We have those security files, right? Have you looked them over yet?"

"Some," the Captain admitted, "but not nearly enough. And it's written in spy-speak, so even with my Navy background, I have to do a lot of cross referencing to be sure of what I'm reading. And... Space, there are so damned many files to read through. What about you?"

She cringed at the question. "Well... not much. It's... kind of scary stuff, and... it makes me think of my dad..." The Cazar wilted at that, but before she could offer words of solace, Talwyn added quickly, "But I feel safe here. We should divvy them up and work on them together so we can find out something useful quicker. Why not now? Or... how much longer till we reach that modder's port?"

Sasha gave her a lopsided smile at the anticipated surprise from the girl. "Only about twenty minutes. You'll get used to how fast the Phoenix can get around the universe eventually. But knowing our luck, Ratchet won't be within a thousand light years when we get there, so we'll have some downtime when we jump after him."

"Great! I really want to help you out, especially after... well, all the crud I put you through," Talwyn told her solemnly, then made a fist, her tail twitching. "And I can hardly wait to get my hands on Ratchet."

"Hey, you and me both, girlfriend," Sasha muttered as she dropped to her feet. "Anyway, I should head to the bridge and spell Busby before we arrive. He's been pulling a lot of bridge duty lately-"

She froze, her eyes wide with horror at what she heard. Cronk was looking down sorrowfully as he went on, "...Poor Slab fell into his cousin's arms. A Craggymite got 'im... a blaster bolt, burned clean through his back..."

Her teeth clenched hard, her fist knotted harder, and she quivered in the grip of dread. She was wrong - not at fault, but still wrong. Slab had died, and Talwyn had borne the pain of it quietly. She practically moaned in sorrow, unable to face the girl, "Oh, Talwyn... I'm so sorry..."

She blinked in surprise at the girl's reaction, as it struck her that she had misunderstood. Talwyn grasped her hands, squeezing them, saying earnestly, "Hey, he's all right. He's fine, really..." But as she tried to continue, she faltered as emotions and dread welled up inside, and her eyes grew moist. "But, I... we... left them, there... that wonderful family... with the Cragmites... Slab, he's such a reckless... he won't listen... oh, _I'm so scared for him_..."

As glistening eyes filled with shining beads and her voice broke, Sasha wisely marched the girl over behind some machinery along the wall where she could melt into tears privately, hugging the shorter Cazar woman tight as she wept out her fears and longings. Sasha waited patiently, much as Busby had done for her, holding her until the poor girl could collect herself.

* * *

"Uhh... you didn't _peek_, did you?" Qwark asked, casting a nervous glance over his massive shoulder.

Al rolled his eyes as he put the roll of duct tape back in the ship's utility locker. "I saw nothing that would get you embarrassed on YouVid. Much. Anyway, do you have any idea where to go next? We have some money now, so we can afford to do some serious traveling and research."

Qwark made a face. "_Research?_ Like what, the one bolt fortune teller at the mall? Browsing Galactipedia entries isn't going to tell us what nefarious schemes Ratchet is scribbling out from his hair-littered crayon box. No little buddy, I think it's time we thought more... deviously. Like Ratchet does."

Al made a face back. "_Devious?_ What makes you say that?"

"Well... he _has_ to be cheating to be so far ahead of us," Qwark said, waving his hands as if that made it more authoritative. "It stands to reason. I mean, between my towering intellect and your..." He waved again as he climbed into the pilot's seat. "Educated guesses, how _else_ could he evade us so well?"

"Your powers of convoluted, vapid rhetoric are as sharp as ever," the cyborg muttered tiredly as he strapped himself in.

"Err... thanks," Qwark replied, assuming that big words must mean something positive, as no one ever used them in put-downs. At least that he was aware of. "Anyway, strap in as I - oh, you are. Uhm... where was I - oh yes, as I use my hero's perrogative to-"

"_Prerogative_," Al corrected.

"You don't correct the hero, _sidekick_, even in private," Qwark shot back sternly, struggling through his straps to fish something out of a hidden pocket. "Uhm... as I... oh, heck, just make some calls. Now, let's see..." He began browsing a little black book full of scribbled notes, rough drawings of women and solitaire tic-tac-toe games. "Hmm... Furnoss... Loggerhead... Dreadnoth... huh, where _did_ that shady bunch hang out? Helgast..."

"Geisel," Al declared rather definitely.

"_Geisel?_" the hero blurted out questioningly. "Never heard of it. What makes you bring it up?"

"This. Look," Al replied as he pointed to the ship's console. On the display was a scene of the Thief musing to theirself as they consulted a star chart. "So... Geisel, is it? Maybe I should pay the good doctor a visit first."

Qwark gaped at it, not quite grasping what he was seeing. "Uh... what's that?"

"A message, from..." Al shrunk the video to check the logs. "Some guy named Derp Blue, from the Office of the Emperor of the..."

His voice faltered, and Qwark was about to chide his companion for stumbling over big words when he read it for himself, his own eyes opening wide. "_The Cragmite Empire?_"

They both whispered to each other quietly, "_Weird_."

"Err... but, so what? What does this guy have to do with Ratchet?" Qwark asked, though he added, tapping his chin, "I have to admit, he does look familiar..."

"He _does_ have something to do with Ratchet," Al informed him, rewinding the message. "Listen."

A familiar Lombax voice came over a speaker in the other ship's cabin. "_I have to go_." A quieter voice spoke a moment later, "_I had a feelin' you'd say that_."

The Captain leaned back in his seat pensively. "My lower intestines are getting the willies eaten out of them from this treacherous enchilada of evil. I wonder how much it would cost to have someone walk into a trap for us. That used to be Ratchet's job."

Al gave Qwark a dim look. "Didn't that use to be the _hero's_ job?"

"No, that's the sidekick's job," he muttered without thinking, then laughed awkwardly when he saw how the cyborg was glaring at him. "Oh, hey! Just a little hero humor to lighten the mood, there, chum..."

"It had _better_ be," Al grumbled.

But as he returned his gaze to the display and the message ended, the image of the Thief rattled the gears of some crusty old memories into place, and he grinned jubilantly. "Ha! _Now_ I know just what to do to flip that ripe enchilada onto the face of that wicked Lombax himself!"

Al licked his lips distastefully as Qwark gunned the engines to life. "Does that adolescent outburst indicate something resembling a _plan?_"

"Oh, much more than that, little buddy." He thrust his finger into the air as he declared, "I have a _plan!_ Just leave everything to _Captaaaain Qwaaark!_"

Al cringed from the excessive volume of the outcry, something he was learning of the Captain's habits when he got excited. "Qwark, _that's_ what you said before we set off for Mukow. Ya know, where we almost got retired _permanently?_"

"This is entirely different, little buddy," the hero replied as the craft soared above the rainsoaked clouds above the Coliseum. "And it's only going to cost me - _us_ a few thousand bolts."

The cyborg coughed in dismay, but had learned over the past few days that when Qwark's mind was made up, it was set like concrete. "I just hope that you aren't spending it on something as lame as those _identity confusion devices_," he sighed resignedly. He decided to make a discreet call to Sasha for advice while Qwark was merrily blathering about some remotely related heroic adventure that was most likely ninety percent fiction. He was shocked to find that her number was no longer valid, and linked to the Solanan Naval Fleet Operations office, and further notified him that she was involved in some fleet activity, and currently unavailable. He decided to drop it for now, and wait for some discreet moment to send her a private message.

As the ship rocketed into space towards whatever strange destination Qwark had in mind, he drew out the disc the saurian had given him, wondering about it, and the reason why someone in Tachyon's empire was nudging them along. 'Are we just pawns in some bizarre game? What the heck is the goal? And just _who's_ goal is it? Are we gonna end up like those Drophyds Qwark dimensionated?'

A seared Drophyd suit was welded to the top of the carousel, making yet another pass under the jet of plasma.

As a small utility vehicle dozed up the robotic remains on the floor of the studio, a supervisor halted it momentarily, picking out a large glassy dome. "Hmm... looks like something the prop department could use."

A black suited soldier perched anxiously on a rock outcropping fronting the bay while tentacles lashed out at him. He gave a yelp as one wrapped around his leg and yanked him back into the water.

The Trooper finally managed to find an oversized dress that fit him, and grabbing a parasol, tried to wander daintily towards the exit of the Playbot Studios. "_There_ he is!" someone yelled, and flinging the umbrella at his pursuers, the chase was on again.

As they lashed the frozen mercenary to the bow of the ship, one pirate gave the work a critical eye. "I dunno, Pete... a Drophyd fer a figure'ead don't quite say '_ARR!_,' know whut I mean?"

He gave a rusty shrug, offering back, "Well, we don't gotta carve one. Wood at the temp'rature of frozen ammonia's a booger to chizel."

The other nodded thoughtfully. "Good point, that."

As they led the cuffed Drophyd to the paddy wagon, a police sergeant came up to the mission officer, asking, "So, what are we charging the suspect with?"

The lieutenant rubbed his metallic chin for a moment, replying, "Make it, 'doing strange acts in public which could be taken the wrong way.'"

"Come on, kids!" a parent called.

"Okay! Bye!" they said with a wave to the Trooper who had nicely helped them build an elaborate sand fortress. He waved back with a sigh, as it had been longer than he could remember when he'd had any fun at all. But then he recalled the bag of bolts Al had bribed him with, and giving them a shake, decided to see what the local cuisine was like. And making it a point to avoid certain seafood entries in the menu.

* * *

Alarms were going off, and inside a rectangular opening in an otherwise nondescript cylinder, a pair of eyes popped into view, sleepy ones. As the gap rotated to face out a viewport of the remote station, a grumpy voice called out, "Awright, _awright_ already! Just gimme a minute to get my shorts... _holy flamin' HELL!_"

He was staring at the bulge of a massive bridge housing that was a part of a huge vessel, the nose of which ran _beneath_ the station. Asteroids were smaller than this behemoth. Any closer and the hull would touch. A display screen came to life, showing the torso of a feloid woman, smiling in a way that meant she held all the aces, as if the size of the dreadnaught he was facing wasn't the first clue. "Well, it's always good to know that I've made an impression."

"Uhh... is it too late to say, _don't shoot?_" Slim murmured sheepishly.

The woman chuckled good-naturedly, but her smile revealed fangs. "We can certainly discuss that. Now, let's get the pleasantries out of the way. I am Captain Sasha Phyronyx, aboard the UFS Phoenix II of the Solanan Navy. And you are...?"

"Damn impressed... _I mean_, Slim Cognito, ma'am," he added quickly, knowing full well from the situation that the Captain knew who he was. "Uhh... listen, I doubt you came all the way out here just for li'l old me, but this is one time I'm _not_ fighting extradition. This whole damn galaxy's a powder keg looking for an excuse to blow."

Her gaze softened, and Slim heaved a mental sigh of relief. "This is just what concerns me. Let's get down to business."

"Business?" he asked in surprise. "So... I take it, this isn't an arrest?"

"Not if you answer my questions carefully," she replied, the sort of response he expected.

"_Our_ questions," an elfin girl added, coming to the Captain's side. A throat was cleared and a gloved hand settled on the girl's shoulder.

"It's okay, Busby," Sasha told the man, then resumed her interrogation. "I have it on good authority that you were harboring a Lombax going by the name of Ratchet. Is he still aboard the station?"

He blinked in shock, looking aside with a mutter. "Crap, aren't there any damn secrets left in this universe?"

Sasha bristled, edging forward in her seat, her voice taking on a metallic edge. "_Mister Cognito_, I expect you to answer my questions-"

"Okay, _okay_ your highness!" he exclaimed. "Just gimme a minute, will ya?" As she visibly calmed down, he still wasn't quite sure how to proceed. "Uhh... yeah, Ratchet was here."

The two girls were visibly upset, though Sasha evidently expected as much. "How long ago did he leave, and what was his destination? And let me inform you that you had _better not_ lie to me. Understood?"

Uhm... yeah, perfectly," Slim murmured, looking down, and knowing that how he lived his life for the next several years would depend on some very carefully worded responses. "He left... a little less than a standard day ago, but, he..." His voice grew faint as he continued, "He... made me promise not to say where to..."

The Cazar's gaze became painful to endure, her voice tight as she murmured, "I can't believe this..."

Talwyn shouted, "You can't do this to us! Don't you know he's in danger?" She grabbed the Cazar's shoulder, demanding, "Make him talk! You can do that, right?"

As Busby talked her down, Slim heaved a very tired sigh. "Listen, girls... I wanna help, ya gotta know I do, but... I _owe him_-"

"No, _you_ listen, Cognito!" Sasha exclaimed. "You know the situation! And I don't mean this sham of a stand-off which I allowed to take place thanks only to my good graces! I mean this galaxy! What's going on in Polaris is threatening to engulf _this entire local group_ in a damned bloody war! For all I know, it could spread throughout the entire Alliance! I don't have a clue what the real cause is! All I know is that one foolhardy idiot Lombax isn't strong enough to face this menace alone! Do you know that the Zoni are a part of this?"

"Uhm..." he began feebly, "Ratchet did mention somethin' about 'em-"

"Well _you_, mister, are going to tell me all you know if I have to cut you out of that tin can of yours _myself!_ Now, spill it before I get really angry and forget all about Naval regulations and the rights of civilians!" The Technomite shuddered, not only from the unnerving outburst from the shockingly terrifying woman, but from the almost hungry looks from Talwyn and Busby. "Start talking! About where Ratchet is headed! The Zoni! What this menace is... anything!"

As Slim began to recover from the tirade, what she said began to register. "Wait - _what?_ You don't know _anything_ about the Zoni? You're in the freaking Navy!"

Sasha gripped the armrests in her fists tightly, her chest heaving from the effort to control herself. Under any other circumstance, her sinuous curves would melt men's hearts, among other things. "Slim... you listen to me good. I'm going crazy with worry over the fates of countless lives depending on someone to protect them. If you have a _shred_ of a conscience, you have to understand this. If you don't, you're going to regret the day you lost it, because I'm just _that_ desperate right now. Ratchet has a knack for winding up in the very heart of every single god-cursed conflict he's ever faced, so by hook or by crook, I'm going to get to him and help him stop this terrible disaster. Now... we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. But if I have to _rip_ the answers out of your damned skull, so be it."

He was sweating profusely inside his canister, and whimpered in a thin attempt at humor, "You, uhh... really got a way with words, babe, I gotta say." When it looked as if she was about to unleash both barrels on him, he cut in quickly, "Hold on, _hold on!_ I, uhh... gotta get somethin' off my chest first. I wanna help, I really do. I want you to understand that I... well, I love the guy. In a manly kinda way, ya know. I don't wanna see the furball get vaporized, or disappear down some black hole forever either. But, uhm... I can't answer about Ratchet's whereabouts... _directly_..."

Sasha nearly bit her tongue as she caught herself just before losing control, and took a few breaths to calm down. "I'm listening." The others in the screen turned from her and fixed their eyes on him intently.

"Well... I was just gonna say that, uh... I hear there's some darn good - if unorthodox - medical care on a little dirtball down the road named _Geisel_..."

Talwyn cupped her hand over her mouth, whispering, "Oh, thank heaven..."

Sasha closed her eyes for a moment as she felt a huge burden lift from her heart. "Geisel... did you get that, Lola?" She turned to face off-screen, getting a confirmation from some other woman.

Talwyn's eyes popped open at the implications of Slim's remarks. "Wait, you mean he's still injured? What happened!"

His eyes fell at the still fresh memory of that dreadful event. "Ehh... Drek shot a slug of metal into his chest when Ratchet went to see if he was all right, the big-hearted dork."

"That must have been what nearly killed him," Sasha murmured somberly. "It's also likely that he's out of Nanotech. Is there anything else?"

His eyes gave the equivalent of a shrug. "Nah... I really doubt I know anything you don't, but, I'll scribble some notes that might help out with a thing or two around Polaris and shoot you an email."

"Thank you, Slim," Sasha told him quietly, and finally, she seemed like a very nice, refined, and beautiful - if frazzled - woman.

"Same here," Talwyn added, smirking," even if what you did was pretty damn mean."

"Uhm... hey, I really am sorry for the double-talk and all," he admitted, "but, I do owe the guy a ton, and even if this is for the neener's own good, it's kinda hard, breaking my word on 'im like that."

"I understand. Ratchet has developed a habit of putting everyone he knows through the wringer," Sasha said with a wry smile. "And Slim, I can offer you safe haven aboard the Phoenix, as long as you cooperate and behave yourself."

He drew a deep breath, casting his gaze out the viewport at the immense vessel. "Hey... you really make this galaxy seem like a scary place. Even if it meant a little lockup time, I sure appreciate the offer. And chances are, you'll get to Ratchet before I ever see 'im again. Buut..." He looked out the viewport once more. "We all know what a slippery feline he can be, and there's always a chance the guy might show up again, needin' an upgrade or somethin'. And ya know... I think I might just cross my fingers when he asks me to keep mum next time."

Sasha and Talwyn both had to chuckle. "I sincerely appreciate that."

"Oh, and listen... just in case things get dicey, I don't suppose I could put you on speed dial...?"

"No..." Sasha began, and his heart sank as he felt a vital lifeline slip away, though his heart jumped as she added with a hint of a smile, "Not _officially_."

He chortled as he turned to his console inside to add the special Naval codes to his communicator. "You Navy guys are as sly as we are-" She cleared her throat at him meaningfully, and he gave a self-conscious cough. "Uh, _right_, right, no chance o' that, no way..."

"Well, we do need to hurry if we're going to have a snowball's chance of catching up with him. Knowing our luck, we'll just miss him again, and I've had enough of these near misses." She turned to face the helmsman below her, saying, "Mr Mimo, back the ship away from the station carefully, and set course for the assigned jump point."

As the officer barked back his compliance, Slim said to her, "Hey... godspeed. You'll probably need it, and... be safe, you guys."

"You too," she replied, flashing him a little smile just before signing off.

He took the time to marvel at the immense ship, watching as it pirouetted about with amazing grace for such a large vessel, and sped off, borne on a stream of light. "Ratchet," he murmured, "for pity's sake, quit running. I doubt you're gonna find a bigger ship in these parts, and I bet you'll need it before ya know it. And my bets usually win."

* * *

The Galactic Parliament of Bogon were debating heatedly for what seemed the millionth time over how to resolve the annual budget. The sticking point, as it had been for weeks, was how to fund the military buildup without running too far into deficit spending. Every galaxy was feeling the pinch due to the tenuous situation in Polaris, so borrowing was essentially a dead issue. Speaker Ogorof pounded his lectern with a massive gavel, trying to call the body to order. "Borsch! You bonch off hooligans! We all know the Bogon Navy needs addeetional fonds! Can you not come to _some_ sort off agreemont on some kind off bodget shifting?"

Before the uproar could begin all over again, a small black-cloaked head appeared in a corner of the display over the podium. "Might I suggest a modest two percent cut of every office and ministry with a budget of more than twenty mirrion bohts, and one percent from those with ress?"

"_Mirrion bohts?_" one councilman asked as the face disappeared.

"Million bolts, you dunder... friend," another informed him.

"Who suggested that?" someone demanded.

"Who _cares!_" cried the Speaker. "It is the best idea I have heard from you scoundrals yet! Oll in favor, say aye! And we can go eat!"

There was a rousing chorus of, "Aye!"

"Good enough!" Ogorof shouted, pounding the gavel. "_Pest!_"

* * *

**Author's notes**

Guys, I'm sorry it's taken so long, but this has ben a zoo of a year for me, not the least of which is a move – _still_ unfinished – into a new home. I'm still living out of boxes and bags, unfortunately. And I know I'm neglecting Ratchet, but I feel obligated to give all these guys some screen time, and I'm intending to rectify that shortly. Fall is a pretty creative time for me, and I intend to take advantage of it. I'm also going to do my darndest to squeeze in as much activity among all the characters in one chapter as I can, so Ratchet can get on with the actual quest, which should be quite a romp when it gets going.

Note: one small addition was made at the end, where Sasha and Talwyn were interrogating Slim Cognito. I'd written it pretty late after a three day writing marathon and forgot to give Talwyn a reaction at the word of Ratchet's condition.

Oh, by the way,

**Ion Fleming:** a retired security robot in the Solanan military who was captivated by tales of Clank's exploits, and when fans began writing fiction based on holonet-myths about the little bot, he decided to glean the best ideas from them, and thus the cluster-wide novel and movie sensation Secret Agent Clank was born. Much to Ratchet's chagrin, at least during the early days, as his popularity was totally eclipsed by his friend.

**Pest:** (the bill is) _passed_ (into law) ;D

**Shih Tzu:** this is a breed of Oriental dog, which Courtney had confused with _Shiatsu_, Nihonese for "finger pressure," the name of the type of massage she actually wanted.

**UFS:** United Federation Ship, if I forgot to mention that.


End file.
